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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523790">Stardust</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleco/pseuds/caleco'>caleco</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Song of Ice and Fire &amp; Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Space, F/M, Outer Space, Space Opera, The Expanse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 14:40:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>19,582</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23523790</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleco/pseuds/caleco</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>After receiving a distress signal from a ship in the deep expanse of the solar system, the Canterbury sends out a small crew to rescue survivors and survey the expected engine failure.</p><p>What they didn’t expect, however, was the ship to be carrying stealth technologies far past the current age, or its walls to be splattered with leftover blood, or the apparent lockdown from outside the ship.</p><p>And they definitely did not expect to find a missing lunar princess aboard.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Arya Stark/Gendry Waters, Jon Snow/Ygritte, Sandor Clegane &amp; Sansa Stark, Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark, Tormund Giantsbane/Brienne of Tarth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>75</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, now I’m trying my hand at a space drama/action/thriller!</p><p>If you’ve read Concerto for a Little Bird, you probably know I’m a musician myself, and go pretty in depth on some music things that no one probably cares too much about. Well, I’m also an engineering physics major (music minor!) so I will really try to keep my geeking-out-over-Space-and-spaceships to a minimum :)</p><p>If you’ve never read or watched the Expanse before, I am basing this HEAVILY off of that wonderful series. I’m of course changing many things, and trying my best to explain it all as if no one has watched/read the series, but if you have questions, please ask!</p><p>For reference:</p><p>This AU exists in a future where the solar system has been colonized. The main factions are Earth (Ran by United Nations), Mars (the Martian Congressional Republic) and the Belt (asteroid belt). They all coexist- for now- but have many conflicts among one another, mainly due to the different cultures that started after expanding the human race.</p><p>Beyond the Belt, it’s mostly ‘open’ for the three factions to coexist on bases on the gas giants’ moons. </p><p>Some acronyms:</p><p>MCRN: Mars Congressional Republic Navy<br/>UNN: United Nations Navy</p><p>As always, I hope you enjoy and feel free to comment!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Jon Snow scowled down at his coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the bitter, vinegar taste of the cheap space brew, even three years into his stay on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But alas, he didn’t come into space for the shit coffee.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He came for the money.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“‘Nother worker lost an arm today.” The chief engineer reports to him, sidling up behind him to pour her own cup of the brew; unlike him, Ygritte rarely complained about the disgusting coffee or the filtered air smell or any of the many rough accommodations aboard the vessel. He supposed that was what he got, choosing to leave the fresh air of Montana for the cramped closet-space of an ice freighter.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In the few times she’d engaged him with actual words and more than a grunt in his general direction, he’d learned the redhead hailed from Ceres. So yeah, she probably thought the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>was heaven. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He knew what he signed up for.” Jon shot back. The workers on the front line, gathering the ice off the asteroids, all signed an extensive waiver before being hired on. High risk, high gain- once they got back to Ceres’ port and dropped off a shitton of ice, they’d be paid handsomely. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Besides, a few sessions of biogel and it’d grow back. Hopefully fully-functional.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was worth it, for the money; the inners on Mars and the belters on Ceres and Eros were always chomping at the bit for more ice; since extending further into the solar system, it was a luxury. He remembered clearly taking long showers, jumping in the creek, drinking his fill daily on their farm in Montana. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Now he was lucky to get a five-minute shower every couple of days.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Captain said he needed you bout ten minutes ago.” Ygritte adds, and he doesn’t have to look at her to know she’s got that smug little smirk on her face. Jon closes his eyes tight and sighs.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t suppose you could’ve started with that?” He grumbles, but Ygritte is already out of the cantina, her long, red braid swinging behind her. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>No, she probably couldn’t have fathomed being a help to him, for once, because that was Ygritte. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon flipped up his comm on the way to the bridge, sighing at the messages that flitted across his screen. The one time he turned the chirp off to get a moment alone, and apparently the whole ship had gone down. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Snow. You decide to take a little vacation or somethin’?” His captain is already barking at him, the bridge of workers pointedly not making eye contact with him. Something was up, alright.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Busy.” Was all Jon shot back. He knew the captain well; before they’d been on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he and Benjen Stark had been on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Hodson, </span>
  </em>
  <span>a slightly smaller ice freight. He’d been his Second Officer there, too.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Benjen just gritted his teeth, shaking his head as Jon made his way to the platform in the middle of the bridge, feeling the creak of metal under his feet. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>was getting old, all right; it wasn’t anything like the ritzy, state-of-the-art ships of the UN or Martian Navy. It was rusty on the inside and out, and the few uniforms the crew shared were reserved only for the essential members. Outside of that, they were all a rag-tag collection of Martians, Belters, Earthers, and everything in between; though few of them actually claimed those titles anymore.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What we got?” Jon asked, taking a swig of his coffee and forcing himself not to grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Distress signal.” Benjen responded, tapping at his screen; Jon almost spat out his coffee, raising his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Out </span>
  <em>
    <span>here</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” Jon sputtered, throwing a hand to the map above the bridge. It showed a tiny dot of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury, </span>
  </em>
  <span>somewhere between Saturn and Jupiter; there wasn’t another ship for a good AU around them.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I know. Hence why I needed your ass up here.” Benjen responded snarkily. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We gonna answer it?” Jon asked grimly, leaning back onto the interface behind him. He knew the correct answer, but also knew Benjen’s may be different. They weren’t UNN or MCRN- they were independent, and if anyone gave a shit about ice freighters, the world would be a lot different.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re obligated to. It’s the law.” Benjen sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. Jon noticed just how exhausted he looked then, his age showing through the normally youthful expressions. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re gonna be late to Ceres if we do.” Jon whispered quietly, almost to himself. “They told us last time-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, I know. Gonna charge us if we’re late again.” Benjen mumbled.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Do we know anything about the ship?” Jon asked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No, that’s the thing- not on our radar, not visible from our distance. We have a set of coordinates that it’s spewing out in the message, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>that’s it.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Benjen said, frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t like the sound of that.” Jon said, grimacing at the thought. They’d been lucky not to run into any pirates on their travels this year, but they had a run-in last year; he’d lost a man in the pursuit, and wasn’t keen on repeating it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Pirates wouldn’t have this kind of tech.” Benjen responded. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>A voice interrupted them from the deck in front of them, bright and thick with accent.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’ve mapped the route, Cap.” Tormund Giantsbane interrupted, leaning back into his pilot’s chair to cross his arms over his broad chest. With his wiry, disheveled red beard and wide-eyed grin, he had always seemed to have a few screws loose. But he was a damn good pilot, and Jon knew Benjen wouldn’t replace him with anyone else.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What’s it take?” Benjen asked with baited breath.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well, Ygritte confirmed we could burn off some extra fuel to do a high-g maneuver, but it’ll be a little painful.” Tormund reported. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon grimaced at that- he despised the high-g maneuvers; it always made him wonder if humans weren’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>meant </span>
  </em>
  <span>to go into space. The feeling of the high g hitting your body, the weight of a car suddenly pressing your bones into the seat, the inability to even budge a finger- gods, even the gravity drugs didn’t help him shake that feeling for hours after.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“But, if we do that, should be able to get to Ceres on time.” Tormund added with a wild grin.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Benjen seemed to like the sound of that. Jon supposed they should feel </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>bit of shame, not running to help the distress call at first sound; but that wasn’t what they were. They were a shitty little ice freighter, back from mining ice from a tiny asteroid caught in Saturn’s orbit. And they were planning on making a killer on that load.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Jon?” Benjen asked, and he didn’t have to elaborate on the question. Jon let out a breath he was holding, knowing what the right choice was.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We should answer it.” Jon said simply.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>-------------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>The high-g maneuver left him feeling like a shell of a man.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His bones ached, the gravity drugs not doing much to alleviate it- gods, was he getting </span>
  <em>
    <span>worse </span>
  </em>
  <span>at handling this? Every time they had to up the gs, he was left feeling like he was suddenly eighty years old and stricken with an astronomical case of arthritis. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon stretched out his jaw with a grimace- he shouldn’t have gritted it beforehand, but knowing the gs were about to hit had made his body recoil in advance. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I want you, Ygritte, Tormund, and Sandor on that ship.” Benjen said over his shoulder, and Jon was amazed at how quickly the captain recovered from the gs- he always did. The man never talked much about his past, but with how well he lived in space, Jon had always wondered if he was born into it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And Samwell.” Benjen added, leaving Jon to shoot him a confused look.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What help could he possibly be?” Jon sputtered, unstrapping his legs from the chair. When he stood, he felt shaky and unsure.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Distress call like that? May need a medic.” Benjen mused. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I don’t want us to have to watch over him, too.” Jon shot back. He wasn’t trying to be rude or callous, but the truth of the matter was that, in such an unfamiliar situation, he needed the ones he could trust to carry their own. Ygritte and Tormund had more than proven themselves time and time again, and Sandor, the ship’s mechanic, was practically the head of security at this point. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Samwell Tarly, though. He was the ship’s medic, and was more often than not stuck in a book. Jon wasn’t sure he even </span>
  <em>
    <span>knew </span>
  </em>
  <span>how to use a gun.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Take him.” Benjen said, in that commanding voice of his, and Jon shut his mouth. If Sam was killed on the trip, it was on the Captain, then.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Suit up and get on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight. </span>
  </em>
  <span>I’ll tell the others.” Benjen said firmly, clapping a hand on his second in command’s shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon couldn’t shake the unsettled feeling that came over him; he blamed it on the high-gs.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>-----------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Less than twenty minutes later, he and the others were aboard the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>small shuttle, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The secondary pilot, Osha, had taken over the comms on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>and was reporting through the headset.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Docking in about…..” Osha drawed off, thinking. “Twenty seconds or so. Trying to match the spin.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The closer they got to the coordinates, the outline of a slinky black ship appeared; Jon frowned at it from the window of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>feeling uneasy with it. It had blended in perfectly to the background, practically invisible. He didn’t like it one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Gods, that’s got to be stealth tech.” Tormund said beside him, almost excitedly. They were about to board a mysterious, daunting ship and everything in Jon’s body was screaming to turn back. And yet Tormund was happy as a child on a field trip.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No one has stealth tech like that.” Ygritte threw back, shaking her head. “There’s been no one to invent tech like that, ever-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Martians.” The hulking man behind them grumbled; Jon turned around to see him shaking his head, his black hair coming to cover the mass of scarring that enveloped one side of his face.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon had very few conversations with Sandor Clegane, and most were when he was following behind Ygritte, her deciding the new fixes for the ship while Sandor got the job of actually implementing them. He didn’t seem like an unkind man, but then, Jon had watched him almost rip the arms off of a space pirate last year.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon shook his head at the thought. He felt a bit relieved that even if their guns weren’t a help, Sandor was more than capable of hand-to-hand combat.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Docking now.” Osha reported.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They were close enough that the silvery letters of the ship’s name glittered against the side of the ship.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Don’t like this.” Tormund said behind them; Jon wasn’t sure he’d ever seen the man uneasy.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Don’t have a choice.” Ygritte shot back, clicking the back of her heels together; her boots magnetized to the deck in an instant, holding her to the ship as they docked. The rest followed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Me first.” Jon said, tipping his head forward to the docking station of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“Tormund, Ygritte, Sam, then Sandor bringing up the lead.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The others nodded; Sam, who hadn’t talked the entire short trip to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli, </span>
  </em>
  <span>looked like he may throw up into his suit.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon sighed, the hot air clouding up the glass of his suit. If Sam stayed in the middle of their party, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>might </span>
  </em>
  <span>have a chance at living if they faced an ungrateful bunch on board.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Let’s go.” Jon announced, slipping his gun back into the holster on his thigh.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The lights were out on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli, </span>
  </em>
  <span>adding to the eerie silence around them. It was always silent in space; but Jon was accustomed to the whir of engines around him, the hum of electricity and the sound of gravity boots floors above and below him. Now, it was just complete silence.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The backup lights had kicked in, shadowing a red glare on the floor at their feet; it was supposed to be a backup measure in almost every ship, to ensure some form of visibility, but Jon swore it only set him on edge more.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>They went down another hallway, a few arrows marked on the floor; the bridge was up a few more hallways, then to the left.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As they quietly made their way, stopping before every branch in the hallway to look around, Jon noticed more and more stains on the walls around them. At first he didn’t think much- maybe grease, oil, maybe an attempt to get the ship back up and running had put cleaning on the backburner.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But Sam had spoken up behind them for the first time.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s blood.” He sputtered, his voice shaky. “Oh gods, that’s blood-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This is fucked.” Ygritte muttered. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon couldn’t help but agree. Steeling himself with a deep breath, he continued to the large, heavy doors at the end of the hallway. Ygritte bent down to shine a flashlight on the keypad to the left.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This is odd.” She said, squinting at the faint numbers and letters. “This is an override. Someone locked it on purpose.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Think we should go in there?” Jon asked. Ygritte sighed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It was locked from the outside.” She said quietly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, I think we best not.” Tormund said, gritting his teeth into a nervous smile. “I think that’s where we go back to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant </span>
  </em>
  <span>and say this ship is fucked.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We didn’t even go to the other side.” Jon said sternly. “We can skip the bridge, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>someone </span>
  </em>
  <span>put out a distress call.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>To Tormund’s grumbling, they began the trek back through the ship. Jon kept a count of the hallways; for a small stealth ship, it had a myriad of different pathways, seemingly endless in the dark light. The further they went from the bridge, the less stained the walls were; Jon breathed out a sigh of slight relief at that.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He tipped his head to the branch they’d passed by earlier- the ships’ quarters.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tormund muttered something under his breath, shaking his head. The man, reckless as he was, had always had an odd sense of superstition about him. He had always blamed it on his time in the MCRN, and Jon supposed it was just something that came along with being a pilot.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As they got closer, Jon thought he heard a thud; he froze in his steps, shooting an arm out to stop the processional behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It echoed again, unmistakable- another thud. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He kept them still, holding his breath; he could hear Ygritte’s breathing faintly behind him, picking up on his own suit mic. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There was another thud, this time closer to the one before. An unmistakable pattern.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Morse code.” Tormund whispered.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Help.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sandor echoed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon took off down the hall, listening to the thuds getting louder and louder. It had to be the source of the distress call- but </span>
  <em>
    <span>why </span>
  </em>
  <span>down here? The longer he listened to the thud, following the noise, the further down the ship he got. It was past the ships’ quarters, down into the bowels of the ship. It was coming from the cargo bay, he realized with a sinking dread.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m gonna slice through this, and we’re gonna move the slab.” Sandor commanded Tormund, already dropping to his knees on the space above the cargo bay. He pulled out a small powered torch from his belt, already beginning to cut a clean line through the thick metal sheet.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The thuds had stopped, and Jon wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad; he felt bile rise up in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>As Tormund and Sandor began to move the heavy sheet, both men grunting at the exertion, Jon moved to shine his flashlight into the inky darkness below. He moved in between the bay and Ygritte and Sam, putting himself in line of first contact. Temporary or not, this was his crew for the time being, and he was taking that responsibility. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ygritte gasped as Jon’s flashlight found two bodies in the darkness; it shocked the whole crew, the instinct to move backwards and reach for weapons.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sandor was the first to respond, his gun trained cleanly on the two figures within a few seconds. He was always the first.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Who are you?” Jon asked, suddenly feeling a bit silly at his words. He knew the UNN and MCRN had specific guidelines for communicating, particularly with downed ships, and he was suddenly reminded that he was the furthest thing from UNN and MCRN at that moment. Just a bunch of rugged outsiders, trying to sell a shit ton of ice on a ship that was falling apart.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The man spoke up first; he was thin and lanky, with messy, dirty-blonde hair; he had the starts of a beard on his face, black circles rimming his green eyes. Jon wondered how long they’d been down here.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re members of the Scopuli.” The man spoke up, his voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. It sent a shudder down Jon’s spine- they must have been screaming for hours.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Why are you in the cargo bay? What happened to the ship?” Jon barked back.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The man’s face turned pained, and he looked close to crying in the moment. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We were boarded by another ship- I don’t know who they were. They put us down here and-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Jon, can you confirm the crew of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Osha’s voice interrupted in his helmet, suddenly very demanding. Jon was taken aback at the question.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They’re all accounted for, with me. We’ve found survivors-” He answered.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There’s another ship on our radar. They’re less than a tenth of an AU away-” Osha said, calmly despite the panic that set alight on his crew’s features.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Another </span>
  <em>
    <span>ship?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ygritte sputtered. “There’s no fucking way-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We would’ve seen it.” Tormund growled.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Can you confirm that there is another ship on route to our location?” Jon asked Osha, trying to calm his breathing. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“There is another ship, yes.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon blinked against the darkness, his breath caught in his throat.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Get your crew back on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Captain’s orders.” Osha said, and shut her comm off for the time being. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before Jon could command orders, Sandor was already climbing into the cargo bay.</span>
</p><p>
  
  
  <span>Jon paused, unsure of what to do; he wasn’t made for Captain, never pretended like he was. And he definitely wasn’t ready to tell his crew to leave two people to die in order to save their own asses. Not with them right in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sandor was already picking up the girl- Jon hadn’t seen much of her in the dark, save for the mess of red, red hair. He’d been afraid it was more blood at first.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Tormund. Get the man.” Sandor snapped at Tormund, who shook himself out of his own shocked daze; he dropped down into the cargo bay.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hurry!” Jon barked back at them, feeling the time tick on. Gods, if they were within a tenth of an AU already, they must’ve been hiding.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But where? There were little to no debris fields between Saturn and Jupiter. And then it clicked.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Stealth tech.” Jon muttered to Ygritte. “Fucking had to be. This ship is just the bait, dead in the water.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sandor and Tormund had clambered up onto the main deck, the two survivors secure in their arms; and Jon began to retrace the breadcrumbs, leading them through the hallways at a near run.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” Ygritte muttered as the scrambled onto the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight</span>
  </em>
  <span>- outside the windows, a larger figure was quickly appearing on the horizon, barely noticeable, unless one knew what to look for.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Tormund-” Jon said lowly; the man dropped his package, the male survivor grimacing at the fall.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“On it.” Tormund shot back, throwing his headset on as he took his place. “Sit down and strap up as quick as possible- we don’t have the drugs on this thing but I’m going to have to do the maneuver again to get the fuck out of here-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Do whatever you have to!” Jon growled. He grabbed the arms of the man on the floor, pulling him to an empty seat. He strapped him in as quickly as possible, ignoring the brief looks of pain on his face. Broken bones, probably.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon threw himself into his own seat, furiously strapping his ankles down and engaging his gravity boots to the floor. Gods, it was going to hurt this time.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He looked around the shuttle, doing a headcount; he noticed Sandor wasn’t yet in his chair, still seeing to the unconscious redheaded woman.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“She’s fine, Sandor! Strap her in and sit the fuck down.” Jon yelled across the shuttle. Between the sounds of the engine firing up, his voice was barely audible.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But Sandor listened all the same, gingerly snapping the restraints over the girl’s ankles, wrists and waist. He slung back into his own seat, shooting Jon a look in the process. Worry.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Yeah, he wasn’t cut out for this captain shit.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The high-gs hit them like a brick wall, pulling a gasp from out of his throat; he made sure to drop his jaw, tried to get as much tension out of his body as he could. It ripped through him all the same.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>A few seconds later, the weight was suddenly lifted off his chest, leaving him to gasp in huge breaths of air.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re far enough to just rely on the Epstein drive-” Tormund muttered. “But they aren’t engaging with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>Jon felt a sinking feeling in his chest, closing his eyes for a moment to let the reality of the situation hit him. They were going to target-lock the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>soon, and they’d be blown to space dust around the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Fuck.” Tormund whispered, and Jon steeled himself for the news. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They’re targeting the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Tormund gasped out.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“No!” Ygritte growled, her face aghast with an animalistic panic; she had already ripped her straps off, running to see Tormund’s interface. Jon was frozen to his seat, glancing at his crew around him. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Are you sure?” Jon rasped, coming to stand behind them after a long moment. He was hoping, </span>
  <em>
    <span>begging </span>
  </em>
  <span>for them to say differently; but he could see the screen, could see the target-lock the giant, hulking stealth ship had on their ice freighter. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Osha,” Jon said sternly into his comms. It was quiet on the other end, and Jon looked out across the windows to make sure the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant </span>
  </em>
  <span>was still afloat.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>After a long pause, the other end crackled with response.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re being target-locked by the approaching ship.” Osha said calmly, and Ygritte’s whole body slumped alongside him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fuck, we’ve got to do </span>
  <em>
    <span>something-,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tormund said anxiously, fiddling around the interface that surrounded him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re a shuttle vessel. We’ve got no damn torpedos.” Sandor said behind them; when Jon turned to look at him, he saw the man slumped back in his seat, his head lolled back, staring at the metal ceiling above. Defeated.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We have no chance against a ship that size.” Sam’s tiny voice came from the corner; it was shaking and feeble.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Jon.” Osha said through the comms, clear and collected despite the desperate chatter of his crew around him. Jon could faintly hear Benjen in the background, shouting orders at his bridge crew. Jon felt a twist in his gut, the sudden reality of the situation hitting him hard.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Benjen </span>
  </em>
  <span>was on that ship. Benjen, the one who got him into the freighter business in the first place, had given him something when he had nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Godspeed, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Osha said, right before the torpedo made contact with the bridge of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>In the blink of an eye, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>broke into billions of pieces. </span>
</p><p>
  
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much to everyone who has been reading and commenting!! Literally makes my entire day :)</p><p>As always, I hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>“Jon.” </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ygritte tried her firmest, yet most gentle voice she could muster in the moment. He was still staring off into space, at the spot where the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>had once been. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tormund was shouting something. Sandor was grumbling to the side in disbelief. She thought she could faintly hear Samwell crying.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ygritte slapped Jon firmly across the face.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We need a captain.” She hissed quietly to him, begging he’d get the picture.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon Snow wasn’t captain material, she knew that. But gods knew none of them were, either, least of all her. He was the leader of the group Benjen Stark had sent out, and if Stark had trust in his abilities, Ygritte supposed she could pretend like she did too.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She didn’t know what to think of the fact that the real captain was now stardust, probably strewn across a good tenth of an AU by now. Ygritte didn’t deal with those things well, so she just bottled it up and added to the collection that was already there.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon’s eyes refocused, his fists clenching desperately. He nodded firmly to her, still staring past her face.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Tormund?,” Jon said, a firm question.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Got a debris field about to hit us.” Tormund said nervously, gritting his teeth as he leaned over the controls. “The- from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant, </span>
  </em>
  <span>sir.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Has the ship target-locked us?” Jon asked, and the entire crew held their breaths. Sandor’s head shot up to watch, and even Sam stopped his sobbing for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Negative.” Tormund said; Ygritte let out a breath she’d been holding. But it was quickly followed by too many difficult questions.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They’re just going to knock out our mothership and leave us stranded? What’s the point of that?” She questioned, but Jon shot her a look- wasn’t the time.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Aye aye, Captain.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Best get back into those seats.” Tormund muttered.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The first wave of debris hit the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>like a brick wall; it was a tiny shuttle ship, meant for the in-between of larger ships. The lights above them flickered. Ygritte was already planning the fixes that would have to come afterwards.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It always kept her tethered in the face of near death: go over the ship, plan out the repairs, think up the solutions. Don’t think about dying. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s got to be the engine room.” Sandor yelled to her over the noise; she winced. </span>
  <em>
    <span>That </span>
  </em>
  <span>was a lot more worrisome.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m trying my goddamn best, thank you.” Tormund shot over his shoulder as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>took a quick dive to the right. Ygritte’s first instinct was too look up, out at the wreckage floating past them. Jon followed her eyes, but she saw him wince out of the corner of her eye. She was pretty sure there was something not mechanical in the piece that flew by, something flesh and bone.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon Snow wasn’t made like them. He wasn’t from the Belt, wasn’t made for these sorts of things. She just hoped he could lead them through it; gods knew they needed someone to after this shit.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There was a gasp from the man in the corner as Tormund swung the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>back around.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ygritte had almost forgotten the two they’d taken aboard; the girl was still unconscious, and Ygritte wondered if she was dead. They’d have to push her out of the docking bay, if she was. Ygritte was already making plans.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>Stay calm, plan out the repairs, don’t die.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“I think that’s the brunt of it.” Tormund sighed after a moment, leaning back into his pilot’s chair. His face was stricken with grief, staring blankly into the controls in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I want you to target-lock that ship.” Jon spoke up, strong and passioned.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Like fuck you will.” Ygritte shot back, at the same moment Sandor sputtered ,”With what?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We don’t have torpedos. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>blasters will barely make a dent in their hull.” Tormund said, mouth agape at his new captain’s outrageous words.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They just blew up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jon yelled. “We really going to sit by and just let this shit </span>
  <em>
    <span>happen?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
  </em>
  <span>We can’t do anything else.” Ygritte hissed. The man was trying to hide his shaking hands, but she saw nonetheless; she didn’t think it was from fear. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was too emotional, too passionate for this.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That was an order, Tormund.” Jon insisted. Tormund’s hands faltered, shooting a quick glance to Ygritte.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We need to repair this ship first. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>isn’t meant for hours of travel, and if we want a chance at living-” Ygritte started.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant </span>
  </em>
  <span>didn’t get a chance.” Jon interrupted vehemently. He was out of his seat in an instant, ripping his restraints off in a rush. Ygritte stood to the challenge.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And we can’t fucking change that. You think they’d want us baiting that ship out there? Getting ourselves killed for nothing, too?” She answered.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Enough.” Sandor said behind them, coming to stand behind his engineer. Jon ignored him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I know the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant </span>
  </em>
  <span>wouldn’t want us to act like </span>
  <em>
    <span>cowards.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He snapped.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In an instant, Ygritte was bounding over to the control panel adjacent to Tormund; she could hear Jon’s footsteps behind her, but could also hear a much heavier one step directly behind her.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Get out of my fucking way,” Jon hissed up to the much larger man.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sandor didn’t budge. It gave Ygritte just enough time to put in her codes, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>following the same lockout procedures and authorizations as its mothership.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The engine is down until I say it’s not.” She said firmly, stepping around Sandor to shoot Jon a pointed look. The man gritted his teeth; he looked wild in that instant, wild with grief and fear and gods knew what else.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Until you can act calmly, I’ll be giving the orders to the crew. We need this bucket back up and running to give us a fighting chance.” Ygritte said. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon closed his eyes, breathing out a labored breath; it caught in his throat, coming out more as a croak. Ygritte closed her lips in a long, thin line.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I understand that you and the Captain had something. But right now isn’t about revenge. It’s about survival.” She said, making her voice as soft as she could in the minute. Adrenaline was still coursing through her veins, and she’d already began reciting her mental lists of repairs again.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was one thing Belters could always do better than Earthers; turn off those emotions for a bit. Prioritize survival, turn into a wild animal set on living another day. And she was going to make sure they did.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Have about four hours worth of air left.” Sandor reported, squinting his eyes at the cheap interface panels of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Ygritte grimaced at that.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Not enough to get to the nearest station.” Tormund added grimly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ygritte was thumbing through the files in front of her, searching for the full-body diagnostics test; while it was running, she was running her tongue over her teeth nervously, praying it wasn’t as bad as it felt.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Fuck.” She hissed. “Airlock is breached. The airlock doors are practically rubbish.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And a dead radio.” Tormund replied.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>In the midst of the diagnosis, an unlikely voice spoke up with a timid breath.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m going to take the survivors of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli </span>
  </em>
  <span>to the med deck,” Sam said shakily. Ygritte was surprised he’d even uttered a peep, let alone tried to be useful. She had nothing against the man; but if she was calling Jon unfit for their line of duty, Sam wasn’t even in the running.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Take Jon with you.” Ygritte ordered. To her surprise, the captain didn’t even protest. Probably knew it was best that he was with the survivors, just in case. She didn’t want her mind to explore what could happen.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“First plan of action is to fix the radio signal.” Ygritte mused. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“It’s the outer antenna.” Tormund pointed out.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Then it looks like we’re having a space walk, boys.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>---------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Once the plan was hashed out, Ygritte ran down to the med deck.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was a tiny med deck, barely bigger than her quarters had been on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Sam was taking the vitals of the unconscious woman, while Jon looked on, stony as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Tormund and Sandor are going out to fix the outer antenna.” She informed them. “But the ship’s airlock is fucked, so for them to get outside means-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hook up to oxygen, got it.” Jon nodded. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We have enough suits for us, but I’m not sure about those two.” Ygritte nodded to the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli </span>
  </em>
  <span>crew.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The man was half awake, but he roused enough to fumble at her words.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah, we’re working on it.” She addressed the man. He looked over at his companion with something Ygritte couldn’t quite place. “Her too.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Could we just try to hook them to up to the oxygen in here?” Jon offered, looking down at Sam. The doctor’s face turned red, his hands beginning to move animatedly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We could try, I suppose, but it won’t be as effective as a vacuum seal. It depends how long the hull will be breached.” Sam mused.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Sandor can do it in two minutes. With Tormund helping, hopefully even less.” Ygritte responded.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“They’ll be getting a shit supply of air.” Jon sighed. “But it’ll be better than none at all.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ygritte supposed she should’ve felt some bit of guilt, at putting the survivors in jeopardy; but with the situation at hand, she couldn’t muster any. If any of her crew were suffocated from it, they’d be losing an essential cog in the machine; if one of the survivors did, they’d just be losing a stranger.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She was still trying to connect the dots of their appearance in her head, behind all of the current actions she was doling out; it seemed strangely opportune, and she didn’t like it one bit.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But those were questions for later.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Let’s do it. Suit back up and get their oxygen up.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>-----------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Another thing about Belters; they were bloody resilient.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Ygritte had never seen a Martian or an Earther do a space walk; even with their current technologies, it was one of the most dangerous, last-resort maneuvers used in deep space. But she’d seen plenty of Belters suit up in suits far less advanced than those of the inners, clamoring up the side of a moving ship with the grace of a mountain goat.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It never failed to set her Belter pride ablaze.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And now was no exception, watching Sandor drilling down onto the antenna, strengthening the damaged foundation as Tormund held it in place. Though Sandor wasn’t technically a Belter- and certainly lacked the lanky signature build- he’d been in the Belt since he was a teenager, he’d once told her. Ever since he’d climbed the side of a ship while orbiting tightly around Io, Ygritte had given him honorary status. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>One minute and forty-five seconds later, Sandor was sealing up the hole of the airlock, creating a vacuum in the ship’s interior once again. Ygritte watched carefully.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Where’d you find the other suits?” Sandor asked, unlatching his helmet from his suit. He rubbed a hand over his forehead, wiping away the sweat that had gathered there.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Weren’t any more.” Ygritte said simply, turning to make back to the bridge and check the status of the radio signal.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She looked back when she realized Sandor wasn’t following.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What the fuck did you do with the survivors, then?” He growled. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Used oxygen from the med bay, tried to make a vacuum seal as best as we could-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sandor was already clamoring down the hallway, his helmet hanging from his fingertips. Ygritte ran behind him, trying to catch up with his long strides.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Once they made it to the medbay, Sandor was already across the room, slipping his helmet over the unconscious redheaded woman;  he was hooking up the oxygen tank to it in a heartbeat, creating the reliable vacuum seal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She was half-dead when we found her.” Sandor growled at Ygritte. “We really going to be using shit med-bay air on them when we’re doing just fucking fine?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why does it matter?” Ygritte threw back. “Our crew comes first.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But she noticed the blue tint to the girl’s lips, the sallowness of her skin. She bit her tongue. She refused to feel guilty for not putting their lives above her crews’ own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The woman’s companion was unconscious, Sam hooking up his own helmet over his head. Ygritte knew the helmets were much better, created the vacuum seal that utilized all of the air without waste. But she also knew the med-bay’s oxygen tanks would’ve kept them alive for even a few more minutes- it wasn’t as strong a current, and was prone to leakage, but fuck it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She’d made the right call.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t want more goddamn bodies on my watch.” Sandor growled. Her mechanic walked past her, his fingertips twitching at his sides. In all her years working with Clegane, she’d never seen him so vocal when aggravated, so insistent on saving lives. She supposed the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant</span>
  </em>
  <span>’s fate had fucked them all up a bit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’ll be down for a while.” Sam told her after the mechanic had left; she saw that hint of guilt cross his features, too.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We did the right thing, Sam.” Ygritte told him firmly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon looked at her oddly, his normally impassive face a bit pained. She wouldn’t let his emotions turn into her own.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re good for now, Jon. We need you back on deck.” She told him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once the antenna was up, Ygritte set out to making an amplifier for their signal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“There’s no one within a tenth of an AU of us right now.” Tormund had said grimly. “If we’re going to shout it out there-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Pretty fuckin’ strong amplifier, got it.” Sandor grumbled. He still wasn’t looking Ygritte in the eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>As they sat down in the cargo bay, thumbing over scraps left by the last use of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Ygritte began to think.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>amplifier had been pretty damn strong, ready to sent signals to ports two days away in a matter of minutes; it all had to do with maximizing their income. If it was an amplifier designed with capitalism in mind, it was probably as strong as they could make it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then she recalled the amp pushing the signal out from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That’d been even stronger than the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>could be on the best of days; it made her frown.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sandor.” She said, thumbing through the pieces of scrap metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He answered with a grunt, soldering a few pieces onto the main board. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“The amp from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That was pretty damn strong. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She mused; but she kept a careful eye on him, gauging his response.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandor tensed. “Ain’t seen </span>
  <em>
    <span>nothing </span>
  </em>
  <span>like that ship before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who do you think made it?” She questioned. She had already made up her mind, already knew her own best guess. Was pretty damn sure of it. But she had to hear his own guess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Who the fuck do you think? That was Martian tech. I’d bet my left arm on it.” Sandor scoffed. “But why? What do they have to gain by blowing an ice freighter out of the water?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Suppose that’s a question for your little friends, when they wake back up.” Ygritte said, carefully prodding the few buttons she’d found on Sandor over the years. They were very, very few, but they were effective.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m keeping them alive because they have </span>
  <em>
    <span>answers, </span>
  </em>
  <span>woman.” Sandor growled back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They had an interesting relationship, her and Sandor; most mechanics were polite and kind, a dutiful worker under their engineers. But she supposed they were also both Belters, and so nothing about them was conventional.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He’d always have her back, she knew that. But he also wasn’t the least bit afraid of speaking his mind.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think that’s about it.” Ygritte said, staring at the tiny amplifier they’d crafted. Hopefully it would be able to shout their message over the waves of </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>wreckage.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>--------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We need to talk.” Ygritte whispered to Jon, trying to be unnoticeable from the corner of the deck. Tormund and Sandor were carefully hunkered over the new amplifier, beginning to record a distress signal of their own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sandor and I think that was Mars tech, back there at the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>She said, watching Jon recoil at that, blinking back at her.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s-” He started.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know. I wouldn’t say shit like that if I didn’t mean it- but everything about that signal had their signature on it. It was clean, loud, </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck- </span>
  </em>
  <span>it even used the same frequency.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon nodded, his brow furrowed as he took in her words. At some point he’d gathered his mess of curly black hair into a tail at the nape of his neck; it made him look more like a leader, more rugged and strong, and she wondered if something had changed after he’d been on the med deck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s out there.” Tormund said, leaning back in his chair with a deep sigh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“So now we wait for the answer.” Ygritte said simply, rejoining the rest of the crew.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>--------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Just over an hour later, the first call came through.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“This is Captain Yao of the MCRN </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager</span>
  </em>
  <span>, answering a distress call from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Prepare to dock on port 16 in approximately twelve minutes. Have all members of the crew in the airlock upon arrival.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Short, sweet, and simple; a classic Martian response.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It wasn’t reassuring.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Tormund gaped, his eyes wide. “Oh this is bad, bad, bad-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We asked for a rescue and they’re sending a Martian warship.” Ygritte mumbled, pressing her fingertips into her eyes until the little black spots clouded her vision. Just when they thought it couldn’t get much worse- the universe always had a way of saying </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck you.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“Who sends the flagship of the Martian Jupiter fleet to rescue seven people?” Tormund shook his head again. “They’re planning on covering this all up, I fucking know it-”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Calm down.” Jon said finally, leaving his brooding position at the far end of the deck; he surprised the other three crew into silence. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’ve got eleven minutes left until we board the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Dead or alive, I’d guess.” Jon mused. “We need them to have a reason not to kill us.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“We’re ninety percent Belters on here, they won’t give a shit.” Sandor grumbled. He could pass as a Martian easily, with his huge build; but he spoke like a Belter. Past Jon, Sam, and the survivors, they were a majority of Belters, and if there was one thing Martians hated more than Earthers, it was Belters.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Ygritte,” Jon said with a pointed intensity. She met his grey, stormy gaze. “What you told me earlier. How much do you believe it?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“With all of my heart.” Ygritte said truthfully.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Then I need you all to trust me.” Jon said, taking the captain’s seat at the mantle of the bridge.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Sandor and Tormund looked to her; she just nodded to them. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Let him do this.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <span>“My name is Jon Snow,” Jon started, looking firmly into the recording screen mounted at the peak of the bridge. “And my ship, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury, </span>
  </em>
  <span>was just destroyed by a warship with stealth technology and what appears to be a Martian-signature on their outgoing signals. Data to follow.”</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>---------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>Once Jon sent out the message, broadcasting their desperation to the rest of the solar system, Ygritte finally felt on edge. Ever since the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the situation had yet to set in, her pushing it away until it could be dealt with later; but it finally hit.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon sent out the data breakdown of the distress signal they’d received on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant, </span>
  </em>
  <span>now stored in the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>backup. It was the only thing left of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant, </span>
  </em>
  <span>the only thing not blown to smithereens.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>After he’d sent the message, Tormund had almost fainted.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You’ve just killed us.” He’d gasped, looking at the faces around the deck for confirmation. Sandor was even caught off guard, waiting for Ygritte to speak up.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“He just gave us a way out.” She said confidently. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon ran a hand over his beard, still not engaging with his crew.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“If the Martians decide to kill us, they’re indicting themselves.” Ygritte said, watching Jon’s fingers move through his beard. Listening intently, waiting for her to agree with his actions.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>For once, she did. Wholeheartedly.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“The Belt will get that message.” Sandor mused, picking up on her words. “They won’t let Mars get away with blowing up another ship of Belters.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Before Ygritte could answer back, a loud transmission came through the ship.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight, </span>
  </em>
  <span>this is Captain Theresa Yao of the MCRN </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the voice came, this time attached with a video of a very stern, gray-haired lady glaring into the camera. They definitely weren’t happy with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>transmission.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Your message has been received. Please refrain from further general broadcasts. My navigator will be sending course information shortly. Follow course exactly. Yao out.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Tormund laughed wildly at that.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Oh, we’ve definitely pissed them off now.” He chuckled. “Gods, we’re dead men.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Not yet, Tormund. Not yet.” Jon responded, hopping down from the Captain’s chair with an almost smug-look on his tired face. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Received the coordinates, but-” Tormund stopped, squinting at his interface. Sandor looked over his shoulder and let out a chuckle.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Seven Belt objects coming towards us. Meet us probably in about two hours- they’re flying dark.” Tormund mused. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Heavy burn, too. They’re busting ass to get here.” Sandor commented, an almost smirk on his features.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Hope the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>knows we’re not alone.” Jon smiled, for once.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Suddenly the bridge doors slid open, Sam bright red and gasping in breath from his run to the bridge.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“She’s awake,” Sam choked out. “The woman from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli- </span>
  </em>
  <span>she’s finally awake.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Tiny update is tiny!</p><p>It’s mostly dialogue and interaction, two things I’m trying to improve on. But I also thought we needed a bit of time to set the stage for Sansa’s own background.</p><p>Main song for this chapter would be Starchild by Ghost Quartet. Absolutely beautiful piece, a perfect representation of what this fic’s Sansa is striving for.</p><p>As always, read and enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    Sansa Stark was swimming through space at one point, treading through inky darkness towards a tiny pinprick of light; she was drunk on it, her mind running but not speaking, her limbs heavy and limp.</p><p>    And then, she wasn’t anymore.</p><p>    There was a hand touching her face, and she didn’t even have the energy to push it away. Her whole being ached, her lungs tight with exhaustion, her joints screaming when she moved.</p><p>    “Alayne-” A voice next to her gasped, a voice she knew; raspy and low, worried and frightened. Theon Greyjoy, her guard through this life and likely the next. She didn’t think she could ever get rid of him, and him her.</p><p>    “Where are we?” She croaked, her hand automatically going to her throat. Gods, she felt like she’d trekked across the Martian desert.</p><p>    “This is the <em> Knight, </em>ma’am.” Another voice added, high and timid; Sansa looked quickly to her right, seeing the body that the hand had belonged to. He was a tall, round man, with large rosy cheeks; he seemed kind, giving her a smile, albeit a shaking one.</p><p>    “How did I come aboard the <em> Knight </em>, sir?” Sansa asked, remembering her manners. She knew she looked a mess, but her mother had taught her well; no matter her appearance, she would be a lady in posture if in nothing else.</p><p>    The man reddened at her words, suddenly nervous for a seemingly different matter. He wrung his hands.</p><p>    “Well- uh, ma’am. I need to go get my Captain, is that alright?” The man asked in a rush, his face wrung with worry. Sansa gave him what she hoped was a kind smile, ignoring the sting of her chapped lips as they stretched. Beside her, Theon squeezed her hand softly.</p><p>    “Of course. I would like to speak with him.” She said, nodding at the man. He scampered off, surprisingly fast and nimble for his size. She studied the room around her- a medical bay, by the looks of it, but nowhere near the luxury of the previous one she’d been in. She had grown accustomed to cataloguing the many med bays she found herself in over her travels; she was practically an expert, by now.</p><p>    “They found us on the <em> Scopuli.” </em>Theon whispered beside her, crouching down to her chair. He looked a mess, his sandy hair tangled and his face marred with rings under his eyes; she wanted to command him to sleep, but knew it was too dangerous in the moment.</p><p>    The <em> Scopuli. </em> Sansa felt the shiver tear down her spine, the memories flooding back to her. They were never supposed to be on the <em> Scopuli. </em></p><p>She suddenly remembered Theon, grabbing at his arm in a rather unladylike manner.</p><p>    “Did they- are you-” She asked, the look of horror apparent on her face.</p><p>    “Just bruises.” He said quietly. “They’ll heal.”</p><p>    She’d never heard Theon sob quite like he had on the <em> Scopuli. </em>Her heart felt heavy with it- she wasn’t sure she’d ever forget that noise, the choked breath before a swallowed-down sob, masked for her own sake. They didn’t lay a hand on her, knowing exactly what she was. She’d almost wished that they did.</p><p>    “Are they to be trusted?” She whispered to Theon. He grimaced at her words, glancing around the med bay with tired, wary eyes.</p><p>    “I haven’t decided.” He answered. </p><p>    Sansa closed her eyes shut at that, frowning. </p><p>    “They rescued us?” Sansa asked again. She felt Theon nod beside her.</p><p>    “Then they can’t be too terrible.” She insisted.</p><p>    “Sansa,” He whispered, his voice suddenly grave. “Something happened after they rescued us-”</p><p>    Before he could finish, the med bay doors whooshed open, leaving the words caught in Theon’s throat. He slowly stood beside her chair, coming to stand slightly ahead of her, in between the newcomers and herself.</p><p>    He’d made a promise to Robb, years ago. </p><p>    Another man- the Captain, she presumed, followed in the doctor from before. He was not what Sansa had expected; she had grown used to the severe, no-nonsense, salt-and-pepper haired Captains. This man was young, probably only a few years older than herself; he was handsome, with a frown on his face, curly black hair pulled back from his face.</p><p>    Sansa tilted her head to him, a sign she’d learned and kept from her years on Luna; the man seemed confused at her mannerism, and she caught herself halfway.</p><p>    “Ma’am, this is Captain Snow-,” The doctor had started, the flush rising to his face. The black haired man- Captain Snow- jolted at his words, shooting the doctor a strange look. </p><p>    Sansa opened her mouth to greet him, but before she could utter a word, more members of the crew had bounded through the med bay door. Theon tensed from beside her, blocking her just a bit more.</p><p>    “Well, hello.” Sansa said, smiling softly at the new intruders. They seemed taken aback at her kindness, at her gentleness; she supposed they did not see much of that, out in the deep expanse. Gods knew she had not seen it returned.</p><p>    “We have a lot of questions for you.” Captain Snow said smoothly, leaning back against the countertops behind him. He crossed his muscled arms over his chest, and it was then that Sansa noted he was shorter than she’d first thought.</p><p>    “Yeah, what the fuck were you doing on the <em> Scopuli?” </em>Another voice chirped up; it belonged to one of the new intruders, the only other female. She was a redheaded woman, like Sansa herself, but was all sharp edges and narrowed eyes; Sansa could spy the thick, banded tattoo around her neck, a signature of the Belters’ customs.</p><p>    Sansa swallowed down the worry in her throat; she had never gone over well with the Belters.</p><p>    Theon spoke before she could, his voice a rough growl; he had never learned to be a lady.</p><p>    “We were goddamn prisoners on that ship,” He shot back. “We didn’t want to be on the <em> Scopuli </em>any more than you all did.”</p><p>    “Prisoners?” Captain Snow added, raising an eyebrow at Sansa specifically. She held her chin high, setting her mouth into a small smile.</p><p>    “What my partner means,” Sansa said softly, pressing a cool hand to Theon’s forearm, calming his frustration. “Is that we were taken aboard the <em> Scopuli </em> after our trade ship, the <em> Arcadia, </em>was boarded against our will.”</p><p>    “Why would they board a trade ship? More importantly, why were <em> you </em>working a trade ship?” The girl spoke up against, her words harsh and cutting. Sansa tried not to let it sway her; she knew she never fit in with the likes of the people in the deep space. They were all hardened and strong, terse and impolite. And while she did not fault them for that, she knew exactly what she was. And it was most certainly not that.</p><p>    “I was working the ship.” Theon spoke again, eyeing the redheaded woman. Sansa could feel the distaste coming off of him. “She was my passenger.”</p><p>    “I’m honestly not sure why they boarded our trade ship, Captain Snow.” Sansa added, nodding her head in deference to the Captain. She could see the tension being to erode slowly off of him, his face becoming less guarded as he listened to her soft voice. The redheaded woman glared at them.</p><p>    “Did your partner tell you what happened?” Captain Snow asked, tilting his head towards Theon, who tensed beside her.</p><p>    “No, I’m afraid we were interrupted before he could.” </p><p>    “After we answered <em> your </em> distress signal on the <em> Scopuli, </em>your friends proceeded to blow our mothership out of the sky.” The man added, bitterness rolling off of his tongue.</p><p>    Sansa gasped, her hand flying to cover her mouth. She felt her stomach drop to her toes- gods, she couldn’t imagine, answering a distress signal only to fall right into another’s trap.</p><p>    “We didn’t send a distress signal.” Theon said suddenly, standing ramrod straight as he desperately gazed around the room. “I swear-”</p><p>    “Why the fuck should we believe you?” The woman hissed.</p><p>    “I promise, on my life and his.” Sansa said, trying to stand up on her feet; she was too shaky, like a newborn fawn. She felt herself stumble, Theon reaching out to steady her. She knew it made her look weak, ineffective, but she hoped it also showed her deepest sincerity.</p><p>    “We hadn’t heard from the crew in almost two days by the time we heard your steps.” Theon said. “I began tapping, because we were both out of voice. We’d been in the cargo bay, without an exit, no way to send out a distress signal.”</p><p>    She saw the Captain take in his words, furrowing his brow as he turned back to his crew. He was looking at them with unsaid words hanging between them. It was then that Sansa could look at the two new members, curiously watching their own responses.</p><p>    There was another redheaded person, a broad, tall male; his face was grim while he looked at his captain, his eyes matching the dull grey of his jumpsuit. Whereas the others looked angry, he looked rather sad.</p><p>    The other man made her pause, because he was looking straight at her. Or, more precisely, down on her- he was one of the largest men she’d ever seen, tall and huge with muscle. His jumpsuit looked ready to tear across his arms, and she hardly noticed the huge scar stretching across his face.</p><p>    But she did, at last. </p><p>    Sansa held her gasp inside, schooling her features to stay impassive. A younger Sansa would have gasped freely, been frightened, even; but she had learned many things over the years, and her emotions were one of them.</p><p>    He had dark, stormy grey eyes, and he did not look away when she met them.</p><p>    “You can stay on the ship,” Captain Snow said, finally, and Sansa almost faltered at his words- she had known the situation was grim, but had never imagined that they’d consider throwing them from the airlock. She shivered at the thought.</p><p>    “Thank you, Captain Snow-” She started.</p><p>    “But we still have more questions.” He said sternly, coming to stand by his crew once again.</p><p>    “And we will answer them as we can.” Sansa responded, sitting back down; her legs weren’t quite ready for the exertion yet. </p><p>    “Sandor here had to practically blow the cargo bay just to get to you both- so I can trust that you were kept there, against your will.” The Captain said, gesturing to the scarred man. <em> Sandor. </em></p><p> “But why keep you alive? Why keep you on the ship, after they’d high-tailed it?” The Captain continued.</p><p>    “I wish I had the answer to that, Captain Snow. I’ve been asking it myself, here. We did hear-” Sansa faltered for a moment, looking at Theon’s grim expression. “We heard very disturbing things from the cargo bay.”</p><p>    “Like?” The woman butted in.</p><p>    “Dying.” Theon answered for Sansa, saving her the time; she didn’t think she could put a word to those sounds. Not yet.</p><p>    The Captain shot his crew a look, concern across his face.</p><p>    “Do you have any idea who the ship may have belonged to? Or its companion?”</p><p>    Sansa shook her head softly. “They had no insignias or identification. Not on their suits, or their ship.”</p><p>    The Captain shook his head again. </p><p>    “I don’t like this. Not a fuckin’ bit.” The redheaded man muttered, wringing his large hands together as he shook his head. </p><p>    “Thank you for saving our lives, Captain Snow.” Sansa added, giving the man a warm smile. “I owe you our immense gratitude.”</p><p>    “Do you ever do anything but chirp, <em> princess?” </em>The redheaded woman scowled, crossing her wiry arms across her chest.</p><p>    Sansa felt a shock at that, not able to keep the color from reaching her cheeks; beside her, Theon recoiled at the word, almost as panicked as she was. </p><p>    She had hoped the reaction would go unnoticed, with Captain Snow’s back partially turned from them, facing his crew. But the redheaded man had his mouth agape, his eyes disbelieving.</p><p>    “Oh, <em> fuck- </em>” He started, and Sansa felt bile rise in her throat, tears pricking her eyes. </p><p>    “No.” Theon said quickly, demanding, and Captain Snow turned back at them, confusion clear on his face.</p><p>    “I <em> knew </em>I’d seen your face before.” The redheaded man said, giving a wild laugh that toed the line between elation and full-out panic; his eyes were alight. “You’re that fuckin’ lunar princess.”</p><p>    Sansa froze, the air taken from her lungs.</p><p>    “She’s just my partner. You’re mistaken.” Theon said, his voice a bit too stern, a bit too rough as he grabbed her arm protectively. Sansa felt like crying, then, though she knew that wasn’t what ladies did.</p><p>    It certainly wasn’t what the rightful princess of Luna did.</p><p>    “I did my time on Luna, Snow.” The man said, his voice breathy and shocked. “I’d know that face. They’re combing over the entire fuckin’ universe for you, girl.”</p><p>    “I need this to not leave this room.” Sansa said, softly, her voice quieting the chatter that had erupted from the crew. The man laughed at that, the tone grating across her.</p><p>    “You’ve just made our lives <em> hell. </em> Even more than it was before.” He babbled. “Snow- if they find we’ve got a fuckin’ <em> lunar princess on board-” </em></p><p>Captain Snow was still looking hard at her, his mouth slightly open; she had never seen a Captain stare so openly, look so shocked in front of his crew. Sansa idly wondered how long he had held the mantle.</p><p>    “We’re dead.” The woman finished for him, gritting her teeth. “They have to go.”</p><p>    Theon startled at that, moving firmly between Sansa and the crew; he had no weapons on him, Sansa knew, and her heart ached at the thought. </p><p>    “You won’t touch her.” He said sternly, staring down the woman with a snarl on his lips. “I’ve protected her this long, and I won’t let <em> you </em>stop me.”</p><p>    “What can you do, boy?” Sandor spoke up, coming from the shadows to stand with his crew; his voice was deep, thick with some accent Sansa couldn’t place. He had a good foot on Theon, and probably many more pounds of muscles to count; she felt nervous for her partner.</p><p>    “Please,” Sansa said, raising a hand to quiet the crew. “I just request that Theon and I get to safety, and then you will never hear of us again.”</p><p>    “Oh, fat chance,” The redheaded man sneered. “We’ll be hearing about you all over the goddamn system if they find you-”</p><p>    “They won’t.” Theon said firmly.</p><p>    “Enough,” The Captain finally ordered, his jaw set in a hard line. He seemed to be weighing something in his mind, glaring down at the scene in front of him.</p><p>    “We’ll get you onto the <em> Donnager </em>with us. After that, you’re on your own.” The Captain announced.</p><p>    If it was possible, Sansa felt more dread flood through her.</p><p>    “The <em> Donnager? </em>Surely that is not the ship answering your call.” She asked, her voice high and rushed. She knew she did not sound the princess anymore, more like a scared, young girl.</p><p>    “The one and only.” The redheaded man sighed.</p><p>    “The Martians will kill me.” Sansa whispered. “If they know who I am-”</p><p>    “With that hair, of course they will.” The man snapped before the Captain could respond.</p><p>    “Respectfully, ma’am, your highness- <em> whatever. </em> ” Captain Snow shot back, the tension back in his body, his brow furrowed with apparent stress. “You’re on your own. We did our good deed back there on the <em> Scopuli, </em>and it got us here.”</p><p>    Theon began to protest, but Sansa stopped him with a pointed look.</p><p>    “Thank you, Captain Snow.” She said simply. With that, he shook his head firmly, albeit surprised at her agreement. She felt her stomach in knots, knowing agreeing was the furthest thing she wanted to do in that moment; but she supposed it was easy to agree if one had no other choice.</p><p>    As they filtered from the room, Theon whirled back to her.</p><p>    “Your grace-” He hissed, unhappy with her response.</p><p>    “I know,” She said, her voice suddenly small and vulnerable. The strong front she’d tried to emulate had left her drained, physically and mentally. And for what? A ticket into the arms of the Martian Targaryeans, who would likely roast her alive. </p><p>    “We will find a way, Theon. We always do.” She said, offering him an honest, pure smile. </p><p>    She always said she would be truthful to him, no matter what; and for the most part, she was. But she also knew the place of a ruler: to help ease the pain of those around them, in many different ways. </p><p>And if a small untruth eased Theon’s worry, then she would say it a million times over.</p><p> </p><p>   </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hoping for a longer update to be ready tomorrow. Then we can really get the ball rolling with the Martians getting involved :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
  <span>Jon stared into the inky blackness outside their ship, his mouth a stern, straight line. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He couldn’t see the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>on the horizon yet- they wouldn’t be docking on the behemoth until another two hours, if their navigation system was to be trusted. The idea was both frightening and exhilarating; he ached to be off the tiny shuttle, to set his feet on a ship that was sturdy in its own right. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>seemed to sway with every push of the engines.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But the Martian control of the ship was what scared him. That, coupled with the fact that he’d sent out a rather incriminating video, along with specific data on the distress signal they’d gotten from the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli, </span>
  </em>
  <span>led him to believe the visit would be anything but peaceful.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He could still see the few ships in the distance, tiny little speedsters not much bigger than the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The few independent Belter ships seemed harmless, when thinking about the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>sheer power, but he knew what they represented. If the Martians wanted to cover it all up, kill him and his crew, the whole system would know about it, and there would be hell to pay from the Belters.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I can’t believe we’ve got Sansa fuckin’ Stark on our shuttle.” Tormund shuddered again, behind him. Jon snapped back from his thoughts.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Stark?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He echoed, sure he’d misheard his navigator.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Yeah? Not too up to date on your politics, Cap?” Tormund shot back, but his usually-light tone was weighed down, the exhaustion and worry beginning to show in his normally energetic features.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I-” Jon stopped himself. He had no excuse for it- ever since he’d left the Earth, years and years ago, he hadn’t looked back. Yeah, the Belters were always shoving towards their own independence from the inners, but outside of that, no one seemed to give a fuck about royalty or thrones or any of the sort.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>So the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stark </span>
  </em>
  <span>had sent a shock through him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You know Benjen is related to the Starks, right?” Jon asked, catching Ygritte’s stony gaze. She lifted her chin up.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You know he gave less of a shit than even </span>
  <em>
    <span>we </span>
  </em>
  <span>did on that stuff.” She countered. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’d come from some long line of rulers, Benjen, even though he’d technically been some cousin or distant relative or </span>
  <em>
    <span>something, </span>
  </em>
  <span>Jon couldn’t remember the details. It usually only came up after a few rounds of drinks in a bar on some rock, the crew getting rowdy.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But he still felt a weight on him, a twist in his stomach.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He’d felt it ever since he’d told them that he wouldn’t cover for them. Had felt it ever since the girl’s beautiful face had fell, her blue eyes shining with something he couldn’t place. He watched her turn to her guard first, going to reassure </span>
  <em>
    <span>him </span>
  </em>
  <span>first.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It was then that he wondered if maybe he was doing the wrong thing.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But gods- a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Stark. </span>
  </em>
  <span>She probably wouldn’t even know Benjen, would probably just give him that same polite, ladylike smile as she told him she’d never heard the name. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>It still itched at him.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I need a minute.” Jon said finally, taking off from the bridge. To his surprise, no one stopped him; even Ygritte didn’t object to his leave.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He found himself a few minutes later in the pod outside the airlock, opening up all the drawers he could find. When his hands finally brushed material, deep in the back of the drawer, he could recognize the feel. Rough, steel grey material, built to last. A mirror of his own jumpsuit he wore now.</span>
</p><p>
  
</p><p>
  
  <span>------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  
  <span>“Here,” Jon said as soon as the med-bay doors swung open. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>The woman- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Sansa, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he reminded himself- looked shocked momentarily, her composure slipping. She was back in an instant, smiling at him warmly. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He looked away at that, instinctively. She was a beautiful woman, even after being roughed up on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Scopuli, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and she was so soft and delicate. It almost made him feel sorry for her- he was amazed she’d lasted a day with her feet off a planet’s surface.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Thank you,” She breathed to Jon as she gripped the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>jumpsuit in her hands. Her guard had stiffened once he entered, but now looked at him with a strange, assessing gaze.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was just as odd as his charge- tall and wiry, with a mop of light brown hair. He had the faintest bit of laugh lines around his eyes, but Jon hadn’t seen him smile once.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He supposed space did that to a person.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Do you have any skills on a ship?” Jon asked the princess. She immediately took a deep breath, her brow furrowing as she concentrated.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I-” Sansa started, biting her lip. “Not traditionally, no. I don’t suppose the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>had an astronomer on board?”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon couldn’t help but laugh at that. The dirty ice-freighter </span>
  <em>
    <span>certainly </span>
  </em>
  <span>did not have a science team on board.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I’m sorry, how silly of me.” Sansa said, her cheeks pink at his laugh. “My mother was an astronomer before taking her duties. I assumed I could act the part, but not if the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant….</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“You know a bit about navigation.” Her guard spoke up.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“That’s true.” Sansa mused, before turning her gaze back to Jon. “My sister used to race ships when we were young. She tried to teach me, more than a few times, so I know </span>
  <em>
    <span>some </span>
  </em>
  <span>of the lingo.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon nodded, though it made him a little anxious. If the Martians got down to business and started asking important details, he wasn’t sure he could count on her to back up the story.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His worry started boiling again in his stomach- this was the reason he’d told them no in the first place. If they protected a lunar princess- one who had apparently been missing for months- they would be taking a strong political stance.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And if there was one thing Jon hated more than politics, it was taking a stance on politics.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Especially one that could easily get his entire crew killed.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>But Sansa smiled up at him, a warm, raw grin, and he reminded himself that she was one of Benjen’s family, somewhere down the line. Not only that, but she was small and delicate and fragile, and her guard couldn’t protect her from the wrath of the Martians.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>And if there was one thing that Benjen hated more than politics, it was seeing the weak  ones get fucked because of politics.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>So Jon took a deep breath, and tried his best to be his mentor.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“What did you do aboard your trade ship?” Jon asked the man.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Nav, mostly. Used to race against her sister, back in the day.” The man jutted his chin in Sansa’s direction, and they shared an almost sad look that Jon couldn’t understand.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Well I have no use for </span>
  <em>
    <span>three </span>
  </em>
  <span>navigators on board a rescue ship.” Jon said, trying his best not to get frustrated.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“I did some mechanical work, too.” The man countered. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Jon,” Sansa said softly, and to his surprise, she touched a small hand to his shoulder. “Theon and I have been across the system by now, a new personality each week. We know how to stay alive.”</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon swallowed, nodding his head at her words.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“And if something goes wrong,” She continued. “I will make sure that your crew will not face the consequences.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Jon wanted to ask </span>
  <em>
    <span>how</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How could she possibly say that. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But he could see the clearness in her eyes, could see that she truly meant it.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>She was a good woman. He wasn’t sure why she was running from Luna, but she didn’t seem any bit the corrupt politician. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He was reminded of a talk he had with Benjen, late one night after a particularly hard run.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“When you’re doing all of this,” Benjen had said, gesturing around the empty caf, to the ship beyond that pod. He’d had a glass of their strongest wheap whiskey, a well-earned cup after the day’s event. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s for a reason. The way I see it, there’s only three kinds of people in this world: Bad ones, the ones you follow, and the ones you need to protect.” Benjen had said, sipping down his drink. At the time, Jon had turned his nose at it, mulling it over and coming with the conclusion that Benjen was decidedly drunk, babbling about things that didn’t make sense.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But staring at Sansa Stark, he wondered if it wasn’t true. And perhaps, she was a bit of two things: the ones you follow, and the ones you need to protect. Maybe you did one, so you could follow the other. And maybe that was all there was to it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maybe it was worth putting his ass on the line for.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>-----------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Jon told his crew, they were silent for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What happens if the Martians find we’re smuggling a lunar princess?” Ygritte asked. Her voice was calm, controlled, and he’d expected the questions.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not going to leave one of Benjen’s relatives behind, for one.” Jon countered. “And beyond that, we all saw them on that ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With that statement, he looked around his crew, their grim, dirty faces.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They aren’t a threat to us. They’re as much a victim of this as we are. Even </span>
  <em>
    <span>if </span>
  </em>
  <span>we tell the Martians that we rescued them, and they find out she’s who she is, they’ll still kill us for being an accessory. Whatever they have against her, they probably don’t want the rest of the system knowing.” Jon finished.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And we’ve already proven how we can’t keep our mouth shut.” Tormund threw in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m not asking you all to like this.” Jon said sternly. “I’m telling you you will be okay with it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was tense for a moment on the bridge, the crew around him frozen at his words.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Finally, a small, timid voice spoke.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think it’s the right thing to do.” Sam said, his voice stronger as he continued. “I know it’s not what ice-freighters normally do. But we aren’t the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Canterbury </span>
  </em>
  <span>any more.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His words cut across Jon more than he thought it would; he gave a small, pained grimace.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aye. I agree.” Sandor chimed in, his voice low. Jon was taken aback by that- with the rough nature the mechanic normally exhibited, he was sure he’d be right alongside his engineer, pushing for the lives of his crew over anything else.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ygritte gave Sandor a look over her shoulder, but the mechanic remained stony.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t like it.” Ygritte said finally, facing Jon with a grim look. “But you’re the Captain now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And with that, Jon nodded. With the current situation in place, it was time for them to wait on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>----------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The marriage of the two ships was particularly rocky; as the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight </span>
  </em>
  <span>rocked into the side of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>docking bay once again, Jon grimaced at the sound of metal on metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think they’re doing that on purpose?” Tormund hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doubt it. They wouldn’t want to scrape up their pretty toy.” Theon said sharpy, the bitterness dripping from his tongue. Jon looked at the man, finding a hateful glare on his face as he appraised the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Even from a good hundred yards away from the ship, it still took the entirety of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Knight’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>wrap-around bridge windows; when Jon had first seen it on the horizon, he had to swallow the nausea down. It was a behemoth, and he’d expected that. But expecting and seeing were two different things, and looking down the barrel of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>felt like attending his own funeral.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After a particularly rough bump, there was a loud noise of metal hitting metal; but this time, there was no reactionary noise, no movement of the ship save for a deep vibration.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think we’re attached now.” Ygritte said, and even her normally brash voice was quieted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>---------------</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A wall of Martians met them on the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>docking bay.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once on the ship, the crew didn’t seem as intimidating; they were clad in midnight-black uniforms, much more polished and put together than the grimy jumpsuits his crew wore. The Martians were known for their military excellence, and it showed in the way the Martians held themselves; they moved as a group, parting for Jon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At the center of the guards was another stern looking man, hair greyed and eyes tight.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hello.” He said, though the gesture lacked warmth. His chin was high, his dark eyes unreadable. “I am Corporal Mole. I will be escorting your crew onto the ship.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then?” Jon asked, staring down the man. He looked at him with displeasure, like a petulant child.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“And then we would like to have a word with some of your crew.” Mole said back, his words almost biting.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Oh, yes. They’d </span>
  <em>
    <span>definitely </span>
  </em>
  <span>received Jon’s earlier message.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a click of boots, the man turned on his heel, his guard surrounding them. Martian Marines, of which Jon had never seen up close. But he’d heard many, many stories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He glanced behind his shoulder, gauging the response of his crew. Ygritte was not holding back her contempt at the situation. She eyed him squarely, silently saying what he already knew.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mole and his men were not much for words; as they went down the sparkling, white hallways, they didn’t seem to cross any of the other crew. For a ship of the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager’s </span>
  </em>
  <span>size, she must have hundreds, if not thousands, of crew, many of which were likely non-military purpose. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>They must have cleared out these hallways, Jon realizes with dread in his stomach. He doesn’t like the idea that they were hiding them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Captain Snow,” Mole says finally, as they approach a white, sterile room. “I would like to talk with you first. Please take the rest of the crew elsewhere.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>One of his guards gives a short nod. Jon wants to ask where </span>
  <em>
    <span>elsewhere </span>
  </em>
  <span>is, but doesn’t want to push his luck.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Tormund nods his head as he passes Jon, a short nod that says more than his words could possibly say before a guard stopped him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon entered the room.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took a seat at the metal table in the center, assuming it is for him. He wasn’t sure how many prisoners they got aboard a Martian warship, and he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. A well-used gravity-torture chamber? Perhaps. He hadn’t been on a real planet in years- he couldn’t imagine the pain that it would feel if they subjected a Martian-level force of gravity on his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ygritte Wilde.” The man in front of him says. He looks strikingly similar to Colonel Mole, from earlier, and Jon idly wonders if it’s a requirement for all Martian Marines to look like stiff, grey-haired assholes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She’s my chief engineer, yes.” Jon grinds out, unsure of where the conversation is going.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You know she grew up on Eros, right?” The man says, sliding a few papers across the table to him. Jon chose not to look at them, trying to cover his unease with grit. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course.” Jon answered.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then I suppose it wouldn’t come as a surprise that she was linked to the OPA?” The man said, immediately gauging Jon’s reaction.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He closed his mouth, unsure of his response. The Outer Planetary Alliance was a fierce, passionate group of Belters fighting for independence from Mars and Earth. He knew at times the toed the line on terrorism, knew they sometimes played dirty. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“She doesn’t.” Jon said finally, pushing the papers back across the table. He knew Ygritte, knew her stance on the Belt, and he also knew that despite her fiery attitude, she was rather level-headed and smart as a whip. She wouldn’t be fucking with a terrorist organization, and she definitely wouldn’t do it like this.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You sound very sure.” The man said. Jon grit his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“My engineer,” He ground out, his words dripping with anger. ,”did not have any fucking involvement with the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant </span>
  </em>
  <span>being blown to shit.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It would be a pretty smart move, though.” The man offered. “Get a Martian ship to blow up a freighter heading to Ceres, largely built of Belters. Start a war right then and there, make us the bad guys. Get your sought-after independence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s fucking ridiculous.” Jon spat back. He could feel it though, a little bit of inkling inside of him that spoke up. </span>
  <em>
    <span>How well do you know Ygritte?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Listen, kid. I know you think you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before the man could finish his sentence, the ship </span>
  <em>
    <span>rocked.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t enough to make Jon fall out of his seat, but it was enough for the man across him to lose his composure for a moment. It wasn’t a huge movement, wasn’t a huge rock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But if something had made the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>move, even if just a little-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That was not good.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The man darted to the door, opening it to engage with Mole. Jon looked out the doorway, seeing a flash of uniform behind the two men, a long line of Marines rushing through the hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Something wrong?” Jon asked. Mole scowled at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just a minor inconvenience.” Mole said, though the furrow in his brow said otherwise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before he could order anything else, the ship rocked again- though this time, it sent Jon falling, his arms coming up to grab the doorway before he hit the ground.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>is that?” The man interrogating him hissed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Get-” Mole started, before changing his mind. He turned to Jon. “Come with me.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon followed, figuring now was the time to be obedient with Martians. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are we under fire?” Jon asked, trying to match the Colonel’s furious pace. The man just grit his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“If we are, it will be temporary. The </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>has never lost a battle.” He said stiffly. But Jon saw it, the small movement in the man’s jaw. He was worried, and that made Jon shut his mouth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is my crew?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re safe, for now. But-” Before the man could continue, the doors down the hallway swung open with a loud screech of metal on metal.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon saw the slight difference in the uniforms, saw the odd navy-tinted vest, and he immediately dove into a small alcove, acting on instinct.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Those were not Martian Marines. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And at the furious sound of gunshots that followed, he’d known his instinct had been right.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Colonel was pressed beside him, his own breathing laboured and intense; when Jon looked up at him, he saw horror on his face, sweat dripping down his breath.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Those </span>
  <em>
    <span>aren’t my men.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>The Colonel ground out, before regaining himself; he dipped around the corner, firing a few shots into the wall of soldiers that approached.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I need a gun.” Jon spat out. The Colonel began to protest, but Jon added ,”I don’t know who the </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>those people are, and they sure as hell aren’t here for me. Give me a gun.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had a Martian blaster in his hands, a sleek, gorgeous black thing that probably cost more than anything he’d ever owned before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He took his turn, glancing around the corner to fire a few shots; there were only four men approaching now, and a few were on the ground behind them. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hit their ankles.” The Colonel hissed. “Their shields- they don’t cover that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sure enough, when Jon took his advice, another man went down. From down the hallway, more gunshots fired, more Martian Marines beginning to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That looks like riot gear.” Jon mused, shaking his head. He couldn’t make sense of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Whatever the fuck they are, they don’t belong on my ship.” The Colonel responded. Before he could stop him, the man darted across the hallway, furiously waving for Jon to follow him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon, against his the roaring in his head, slid across the hallway after another round of shots ended.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Down the opposite hallway, Jon followed in the Colonel’s footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I swear to you, we have nothing to do with these men.” Jon hissed, hoping that when the dust settled and the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>eliminated the threat, his crew wouldn’t have to pay for it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But then the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>lurched, the lights in the hallway flickering as sparks flew across his vision. The Colonel swore loudly behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A sense of dread began to intermingle with Jon’s adrenaline. </span>
  <em>
    <span>If the Donnager eliminated the threat.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He couldn’t ever imagine the biggest ship in the Martian’s Jupiter fleet going down; but with the red emergency lights flickering on, the screams from other floors reaching them, Jon felt more and more like he was a running through a metal coffin.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Your friends are down here,” Mole hissed, and Jon snapped his head to look at him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Are you-”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m getting you all onto another ship.” Mole said, before Jon could ask anything more. Jon was silent, stunned for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But </span>
  <em>
    <span>why?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He finally settled on, trying to control his breathing as they ran through hallways, in and out of firefights between the Marines and the unknown invaders.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because you need to tell them.” Mole gasped. “Tell them it wasn’t the Martians who blew up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the panic begin to set in at his words- if Mole was getting them to the nearest shuttle, it meant that the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>was about to go down. And the idea that there was someone else out there- someone who wanted to blow up the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Cant, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and then could even have the </span>
  <em>
    <span>power </span>
  </em>
  <span>to destroy the </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager </span>
  </em>
  <span>afterwards- made him sick. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>No. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He told himself. He had a crew to worry about.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mole was slinging open a heavy, white door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandor was at the door, a metal bar about to swing into Mole’s face; Jon quickly stepped up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“C’mon.” He said, waving to his crew to follow; he didn’t have time to worry about their states, or explain to them what was happening. But for once, they were unquestioning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were running back through the firefights, Mole opening the security doors along the way. The ship lurched once again, and this time Jon heard the deafening sound of an explosion, a few story’s down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Mole’s face was white, sweat rolling down his brow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A bullet embedded itself into the man’s leg, sending him onto the ground. His crew flattened against the walls; Jon’s first instinct was to drop down beside the fallen man.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Go,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He hissed, almost snarling at him. “The hangar bay is three hallways down.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon opened his mouth, about to say more-</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Remember what I said.” The man growled out. Jon wanted to say something, perhaps a show of gratitude, but then the man was shooting back down the hallway, and Jon remembered the crew he had behind him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now in the lead, he waved them on, darting into another hallway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The hangar bay was a mess.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a gigantic, open area, with a huge fleet of starships docked. In the lurching of the ship, they must have shifted, and they were now a wreckage of what they once were.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Fuck,” Tormund breathed, desperately looking around the bay for a viable ship. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Over there.” Theon shouted, pointing at a tiny  speeder. It wasn’t anything like the brute, protective force of the other ships, but Jon would’ve taken a jetpack if it got him off the dying </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donnager.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon began waving them on, following Tormund’s running form. He got to the back, noticing Sandor supporting a limping Sansa, his face marred with blood. Jon gritted his teeth.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Can she walk?” Jon shouted above the noise.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sandor took his advice, lugging the girl up into his arms, to which her mouth opened in a grimace of pain. From there, Jon waved him on, taking up the lead with the last weapon they had.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He felt the bullet before he heard it, embedding itself right in the fleshy part of his calf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon let out a roar, gritting his teeth at the pain. He’d never been shot before, and the adrenaline was starting to wear off, the panic of the sinking ship setting into his bones.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He turned around, firing off a few off of his Mole’s spare gun; they were unfocused, lazy shots that only made the sniper duck behind a broken ship.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Snow!” Sandor yelled behind him, going to help.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Jon shoved him away, standing back to his full height with a rush of pain shooting through his leg. Before he could protest anymore, Sandor had one of his hands under his arm, practically dragging the Captain along.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Another bullet shot by him, narrowly missing Sandor’s neck. It made Jon freeze, until he heard another, much closer gun fire off.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looked up to see Ygritte at the base of their speedster, holding another Martian weapon.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Dead Marine back at the first hallway.” She said as he passed, Sandor dragging him into the airlock.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Once the door closed behind them, Jon began to breath a little clearer, wincing as the pain came back anew. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry,” Ygritte said, making Jon look at her. He caught her eye just as soon as her fingers dug into his pierced flesh.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>With a howl, Jon lurched towards her, but Sandor was holding his arms down. Sam stood nearby, a swatch of long, ripped cloth in his hand, and he could make sense of what they were doing but gods above, the </span>
  <em>
    <span>pain-</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>He blacked out before her hands left his leg, closing his eyes to the sound of Tormund shouting from the bridge, and the pitter-patter of bullets hitting the hull.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>So I got to add a few disclaimers for this chapter, but they will be at the end, because I don’t want to ruin it!</p><p>As always, read and enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>    “Everyone strap down!” Tormund roared to the chaos behind him.</p><p>    To Sansa, it sounded far away, a tinny noise that seemed unreal; she remembered Ygritte firing a gun, right by her ear, just a minute before. </p><p>    She wiped the liquid from her brow before it could drip into her eyes, and she ignored the color, steeling herself with a few deep breaths. <em> I am a wolf. </em></p><p>The ship was still being pelted with bullets, and as she pulled the straps around her ankles, she saw Sandor, the muscles bulging through his jumpsuit as he lugged Captain Snow’s form over his shoulder.</p><p>    He glanced around the small bridge, a ferocity in his eyes Sansa hadn’t seen before. Once he found two empty seats, he was bolting from the airlock, onto the other side of the bridge.</p><p>    Ygritte’s hands were bloody, dark red and stained as she fastened her own belts. Sansa forced herself to breath again, slow and deep.</p><p>    Theon was looking at her, screaming something, but she couldn’t make out the words as Tormund lurched the speedster forward.</p><p>    Sansa felt her own body react, pushed back harshly in her seat. She’d only been on a speedster a few times before, with her sister piloting. But it had never been like this, never a struggle for survival, so they hadn’t pushed the beast.</p><p>    But Tormund was practically hitting a few gs before they even left the hangar bay. </p><p>    In the bigger, more expensive ships, made of sprawling, sparking white and filled with servants and politicians, the high gs were much smoother. </p><p>    This was not a big, expensive ship.</p><p>    She felt a scream stop in her throat, the gs grabbing onto every bone in her body and <em> pushing </em> it back into her seat- <em> no, through her seat, surely- </em></p><p>It was over a moment later, though it’d felt like an eternity. She couldn’t stop the choked sob that came from her chest, trying to find Theon with her eyes.</p><p>    “I’m sorry, I didn’t have time for the juice.” Tormund muttered, more to his screen than anyone else. He was still furiously tapping, clicking buttons she couldn’t make sense of. Planning a path away from the <em> Donnager. </em></p><p> On the big, expensive ships, <em> juice </em>wasn’t required. The cocktail of anti-g drugs, made to lessen the effects the high g burn had on a body, was practically redundant on the ships she’d grown used to. Hell, even the trader ship Theon and her had been on was large enough to reduce the high g burn.</p><p>    Sam was on his feet before the rest of the crew; he was running to his Captain on shaking legs.</p><p>    “You could’ve <em> killed </em>him!” The man yelled at Ygritte, his face ruddy with anger.</p><p>    Even Sansa was taken aback; the man had seemed so kind, soft spoken. </p><p>Ygritte took it in stride, though. “That bullet getting pushed through his leg in high g would’ve done that first.”</p><p>Sam still scowled at her response, on his knees in front of the Captain’s chair. Sansa felt her stomach drop when the man shifted, exposing the Captain’s leg to the crew. It was a gory mess, the flesh open and exposed. She quickly looked away.</p><p>“Sansa,” Theon breathed beside her. “Are you-”</p><p>She nodded fiercely. Gods, just to hear Theon’s voice gave her an immense relief- she wasn’t sure what she would do without him, out here with only the lukewarm Belters.</p><p>“You’ve got a cut.” Theon pointed out, going to touch her forehead. She shrunk back instinctively, feeling the sting on her face.</p><p>“It can wait.” She said simply. She wasn’t going to point out the ache in her ankle, either- somewhere in the firefights on the <em> Donnager, </em>she’d slipped around a corner. She shuddered to think of what she had slipped on. The crew didn’t blink an eye at the bodies on the floor, the massacre around them, but she had felt like she was walking through a waking nightmare.</p><p>Sansa wasn’t sure she’d ever forget that.</p><p>If it weren’t for Sandor grabbing her as she slipped, and then helping her across the docking bay, she may have been one of those bodies. Theon had been ahead of them and hadn’t seen it happen, and she was going to tell him. He’d feel guilty, beating himself up like he always did.</p><p>Surprisingly, the rest of the crew was untouched, save for a few scratches and bruises. A small miracle, with their Captain unconscious just a few feet away.</p><p>“Who the fuck could take down the <em> Donnager,” </em>Tormund mused, still jamming angrily at the controls in front of him. Sansa turned in her seat, looking out the curved window behind them. </p><p>In the normally inky darkness of the expanse, the view was alight, shining like crystals caught before the sun. The gleaming hull of the <em> Donnager </em>was in a billion pieces, the debris field stretching across the entire view of the window.</p><p>Sansa felt her heard lurch, nausea seeping into her. All the people on that ship- hundreds, if not thousands. She wasn’t sure if she could ever trust a Martian again, but she knew that of the thousands on that ship, a great number were no more guilty than this crew in front of her was.</p><p>“That wasn’t Inners or Belters on there.” Ygritte mused, fully turned in her seat to glare at the wreckage. Where Sansa had felt dread, Ygritte’s eyes reflected a different emotion: an almost respect, something she’d never expect a Belter to have for a Martian ship.</p><p>“You see their gear?” Sandor mumbled. He raised his head from his hands, catching Sansa’s eyes. His hands were bloody, too, now coated in his hair. But his eyes- they were saddened. Hardened, yes, but mournful.</p><p>“They didn’t have any insignias.” Sansa spoke up, meeting his eyes. “It’s a law, aboard the war vessels.”</p><p>Ygritte laughed beside her. “I don’t think they were planning on following any of your <em> laws, </em>princess.”</p><p>Sansa bristled at the words, but kept her chin high. “No, but you would think that for a massacre this large, the offender would want some sort of recognition.”</p><p>That made the cabin quiet, save for the small noises coming from Sam’s work. Sansa grimaced.</p><p>“She’s not wrong.” Tormund agreed. “That’s what they all want- some leverage, something to show off. These fuckers just wanted to destroy.”</p><p>“I’ll bet you they were trying to finish what they started with the <em> Cant.” </em>Sandor spoke again. </p><p>As much as she hated to say it, Sansa added ,”So the Martians are not to blame.”</p><p>Once again, silence fell over the cabin.</p><p> </p><p>--------------</p><p> </p><p>They were floating in dead space for almost an hour before the Captain came back to conciousness.</p><p>In that time, Sansa had found a small bathroom off the bridge, as well as a tiny, mini caf on the far end. She’d already started wiping the blood from her face, staring into the mirror in front of her.</p><p>She wasn’t sure who she looked like anymore- her time in deep space, on various dwarf planets of the Belt, as well as on the trader ship, had left her features more gaunt than before. Her hair was still a fiery red, but it had seemed to calm some, into a darker shade. She looked angrier, and though she tried a weak smile to the mirror to dissuade it, it still clung to her features.</p><p>She looked like Arya.</p><p>The thought made her chest <em> ache, </em>and she pushed it from her mind. Her dead sister would always come back to haunt her, again and again. Even if she took the lunar throne back, one day, she would still have her sister to attest for in her mind.</p><p>There was a knock on the bathroom door.</p><p>“Princess?” The gruff voice came from the other side. It almost seemed a bit awkward, stunted, like the owner wasn’t sure how to address her correctly.</p><p>“Sandor,” Sansa said kindly, opening up the door to find him on the other side, his large fist posed to knock. He was a gigantic man, the mechanic- she was a tall, slender woman, but he was still almost a foot higher than her, and nearly three times as wide. He had the muscles of a Martian Marine, and the thought made her flinch.</p><p>She’d had enough time with Martians. Especially large, muscled Martian men who had no qualms beating her, again and again.</p><p>“I saw you got cut.” He said, nodding to the mark on her forehead. He shook his head, a slight movement that made his dark hair come to cover the scar on his face. </p><p>“Oh, yes.” Sansa said, feeling a bit silly, compared to the Captain’s wound.</p><p>“Hop up,” He said, now nodding his head at the washroom counter behind her.</p><p>Sansa frowned, unsure what he was instructing her to do. For a moment, her mind went to very unladylike places, and she shook it away with a blush.</p><p>Sandor shook something in his hands- a tiny first aid kit.</p><p>“I’ve gotten enough of those to know you need stitches.” He explained, his own face a little reddened at her response. “Don’t want any scars, now.”</p><p>For a minute, she wanted to say something, wanting to ease his own suffering, a bit. <em> Scars are not the worst thing. </em></p><p>But she kept her mouth shut. Though he had been unfailingly kind to her, for whatever reason, while she stumbled through this new world, it wasn’t her place.</p><p>She slid up onto the counter, watching him unpack the needle and thin thread. She bit her lip, and when he looked up, he glanced at the movement before snapping his head back to his materials.</p><p>“Will it hurt?” She asked, her voice hushed. She immediately felt like a small child, could practically <em> hear </em>Arya scoffing at her.</p><p>“Aye, little bird.” He said softly, an odd, muted smile on his face.</p><p>She flushed, questioning. “<em> Little bird?” </em></p><p>“You chirp your little courtesies, make people ooh and aah at your pretty little feathers. You’re like a little bird.” He explained, and this time, he looked her in the eyes. Steely grey, hardened and secure.</p><p>“You’ve seen birds? In person?” Sansa inquired, suddenly feeling very interested. She was sure he, being on a Belt freighter, had been from the Belt.</p><p>“Haven’t always been in the Belt.” Sandor began, and while she was distracted, he began his work. </p><p>It stung deeply, making her hiss despite her best efforts.</p><p>“I was born on Earth,” He continued, an odd look on his face. Slightly restrained, slightly pained- she almost wanted to stop him, tell him he didn’t have to share this with her. </p><p>“Grew up in Baltimore.” Sandor continued, weaving another stitch. In the process, Sansa had grabbed on to the closest thing- the side of his jumpsuit, she realized with embarrassment, clutching on to the few inches of loose fabric there. For a muscled man, his waist was tapered, flowing out into a broad chest.</p><p>She reddened even more, but Sandor continued.</p><p>“People talk shit on the Belt, the conditions on some of these freighters.” He said, his brow furrowed as he focused on her forehead. He gave a sharp, quick laugh. “But they haven’t seen the sides of Baltimore I have.”</p><p>“I was born on Luna.” Sansa spoke up, and she felt a twitch against her forehead. She’d surprised him.</p><p>“I’d expected as much.” Sandor said gruffly.</p><p>“I only spent fifteen years there.” Sansa said. “And then I was on Mars, and now I’m here.”</p><p>“Spent a lot of time on Mars.” Sandor commented. Sansa nodded, a tightness in her chest. <em> Seven years, to be exact. </em></p><p>“I was engaged to someone, on Mars.” Sansa said, her voice suddenly feeling too loud, too exposed in the tiny bathroom.</p><p>“I’m guessing that didn’t turn out well.”</p><p>Sansa smiled a little bit at that. “You could say that.”</p><p>There was a tiny <em> click </em>of scissors, cutting the end of the medical thread as Sandor finished up. </p><p>Sandor turned to the first aid kit, his body angling away from her; but Sansa grabbed his arm, her hands not even circling halfway around his bicep.</p><p>“Thank you,” She said, her voice back to the kind, strong one she’d cultured over the years. </p><p>Sandor just nodded, dropping his head at her. He was dipping out of the bathroom before she could say anything else, even though she didn’t have any more words. She missed the conversation.</p><p>    Back on the bridge, the Captain was already walking, on very shaky legs.</p><p>    “Captain,” Sam said nervously, hovering around him. Sansa could see Jon’s mouth tighten at the medic’s worry, could see the tension in his shoulders. He didn’t like to seem weak, she noted.</p><p>    “Sit, Snow.” Ygritte ordered, coming from the navigation panels to appear at the Captain’s side.</p><p>    “I’m fine.” The Captain muttered, but his face was as white as his surname.</p><p>    “No, actually, you’ll <em> all </em>want to sit for this.” Tormund all but shouted from the navigation panels, his brow furrowed as he glared into the screens.</p><p>    Curious, Sansa slipped back into her seat. Theon had awoken from a short nap, and she was happy to see that he’d gotten some little bit of rest- he was always moving, always making sure things were safe.</p><p>    “Your cut,” He commented, confused.</p><p>    “Sandor helped me stitch it up. So it won’t scar.” She said simply, but she saw the look on Theon’s face.</p><p>    “The mechanic?” He whispered, his voice hiding under the rest of the crew’s urgent chatter. “Sansa, we don’t know these-”</p><p>    “I trust them.” She said, finally, hushing her guard’s worries. Theon stopped, but his brow was still furrowed, his mouth in a thin line.</p><p>    “We’re changing direction.” Captain Snow announced, gathering her attention before Theon could say anything more.</p><p>    “Where to?” Sansa asked, standing to make her way to the crew. She still noticed how they bristled, unsure of her.</p><p>    “Tycho Station. They’ve hailed us, offered sanctuary.” The Captain said smoothly, but Sansa’s heart stopped in her chest, tears beginning to prick at her eyes before she could stop them.</p><p>    “Who hailed us? Who specifically?” Sansa said, her voice a hushed, quick speed. The crew paused at her tone, curious.</p><p>    “Tyrion Lannister.” Captain Snow said. “I know you may not get along with Martians, but his station is the closest thing this system has to a safe zone.”</p><p>    Sansa felt hot, fat tears rolling down her face before she could stop them. She didn’t bother caring about her appearance, caring about if she seemed too weak or too emotional in the moment. She knew Tyrion Lannister, knew him quite well.</p><p>    There was a time where he had been the only thing keeping her safe, the only thing keeping her <em> alive </em>in that den of lions.</p><p>    “I know Tyrion. I know him quite well.” Sansa said, a broad grin on her features. The Captain seemed taken aback. </p><p>    “I-” Sansa started, noticing she had gathered the attention of the entire bridge. She met Theon’s eyes, saw his apprehension, his silent plea to make her stop her sentiment there. But she couldn’t, and she also knew the value of truth. If it made these people trust her, made them <em> understand </em>her more, she would speak it.</p><p>    “I was to be married to the Martian prince, years ago. I was fifteen at the time, and my father was still alive. It was to be a marriage to unite Luna, Earth, and Mars. We quickly found ourselves in a trap, and my father was murdered by the Martians.” Sansa took a deep breath, pushing down the emotions she couldn’t express in front of the crew.</p><p>    She took a deep breath, and continued. “My fiance was a monster. And once my father had been murdered, my brother and mother tried to fight for Earth and Luna. All the while, my fiance-”</p><p>    Another swallow. “He did terrible things, to me and those I loved. My family has all been murdered, from what I know. After that, he quickly found me of no use. Once he had married Lady Tyrell, my treatment got worse. Finally, his uncle, Tyrion Lannister, helped smuggle me out.”</p><p>    “Theon found me on Ceres, sometime after Joffrey handed Luna to the Boltons and Stannis Baratheon claimed Earth.” Sansa gave a small, grateful smile to her companions. His eyes were tight, sad.</p><p>    There was silence, thick in the air in the bridge. She looked around, and found Sandor staring at her with an unreadable, stony expression.</p><p>    But the most unlikely of voices spoke up.</p><p>    “Then you’re a true Belter, now. No family, no ties.” Ygritte said, and Sansa saw Theon stand quickly at the harsh words. But they were delivered in such a way, without the usual snark or hatred. Almost as if Ygritte seemed to understand her a bit more.</p><p>    “I suppose so,” Sansa laughed, wiping the tears from her cheeks. </p><p>    “I’m sure Tyrion will be thrilled to see you on Tycho Station.” Captain Snow spoke up, his voice quieter than before.</p><p>    “We do have quite a bit of catching up to do.” Sansa said, a soft, knowing smile on her face. She’d kept a few details from her story, ones that she doubted would be of interest to the crew.</p><p>    Tycho Station was the premier engineering firm of the system; it housed the Tycho Manufacturing and Engineering Concern, the firm that had single-handedly built the largest innovations of the solar system. Their biggest feat, thus far, had been speeding up the rotation of Ceres to emulate a gravitational force close to that of Earth’s, allowing for the colonization to transition smoother. Now, hundreds of years later, the Belt had grown into its own.</p><p>    It was a massive Station, known for constructing ships on the scale of the <em> Donnager </em>and larger. It was almost the size of Ceres, in terms of usable space, with huge, rotating rings that each housed a system of its own. It was also home to thousands of workers, engineers, and scientists.</p><p>    Tyrion Lannister had been pouring money into the Station, while also pouring money into the pockets of politicians from the entire solar system- Mars, Earth, Luna, the Belt, and the science stations on the moons of the ice giants. </p><p>    He’d been making a safe space. By funding politicians from every corner of the system, if anyone dared to target the Tycho Station, there would be hell to pay, regardless of faction. It existed outside of war, outside of conflict. </p><p>    Until maybe now, with their speedster on its path to the Station.</p><p>   </p><p>    ---------------</p><p> </p><p>    When they boarded the Tycho Station, a familiar sight was in front of Sansa.</p><p>    Tyrion Lannister looked different from he had a year ago, the last time Sansa had seen him, giving her a small, pained smile as she stepped onto the surface of Ceres. His brown hair was aging, a few grey strands poking through his full head of hair and beard; there were circles under his eyes, and Sansa wondered if the Station had aged him that much.</p><p>    That, or his monstrous family.</p><p>    Sansa had never seen Tyrion surprised before; the man always seemed in charge, always one step ahead of everyone around him. But when he saw her, his eyes widened, a small, laughing gasp coming from his chest.</p><p>    “Why is it I always find you in the center of trouble?” He gasped, coming forward to greet Sansa directly. She smiled brilliantly, feeling bittersweet. On one hand, he was the purest soul she’d met on Mars, the only one to care if she lived or died. </p><p>    But on the other hand, when she looked at him, she could still see her father dying, could still feel the beatings, could still feel the fear coursing through her veins.</p><p>    But he was smiling broadly at her, kissing the back of her hand gently.</p><p>    She was biting back the tears, knowing the crew behind her could only put up with so many of her girlish notions before they became exasperated. But her heart felt full, finally feeling <em> safe </em>for once.</p><p>    “You’ll have to explain to me how you ended up with the system’s most wanted.” Tyrion laughed. </p><p>    Sansa smiled at that, finally remembering her surroundings.</p><p>    “Tyrion, here is the crew that rescued Theon and I from the ship, before the incidents occurred.” She waved a hand behind her, signalling for the Captain to come beside her. His face was impassive, his brow furrowed; Sansa couldn’t blame him too much. The last time he had stepped on a giant, unique ship, it had ended up in wreckage behind him.</p><p>    That was two ships that had burned behind him, in the past two days. Behind them, she reminded herself.</p><p>    “Ah, Captain Snow.” Tyrion said, ever the charismatic man. He nodded politely to the Captain, before continuing. </p><p>    “I have many, many things to talk with you about. But first, I must ask, how did you find yourself in the company of my wife?”</p><p> </p><p>    -------------</p><p> </p><p>    Sansa supposed she should have mentioned that she had been married to Tyrion Lannister for a short period of time, an unconsummated union built out of Joffrey Baratheon’s hatred of them both. Technically, it was what had given Tyrion the small window of chance to whisk her away, and for him to leave Mars for good and take residence of his secret project, the Tycho Station.</p><p>There was no love between them, save for the immense gratitude and pride they felt for one another. But Tyrion Lannister had always been a man who spoke brashly, who lived vicariously through the shock his words had on others.</p><p>Jon snapped his head to her, blinking. Behind her, Ygritte stuttered out a brash laugh, and Tormund outwardly said ,”Excuse me?”</p><p>Sandor hadn’t said a word, and Sansa felt eyes on her back, but she refused to look back.</p><p>“Tyrion and I were married for a brief time.” She explained. “It was unconsummated-”</p><p>“Must you hurt me so?” Tyrion interrupted, a lopsided, light-hearted grin on his face.</p><p>“And it was a union made by my ex-fiance, to further make the both of us miserable.” Sansa finished.</p><p>“While you’re here, we can also get it annulled.” Tyrion said softly. “I had meant to, before I dropped you on Ceres, but I was afraid it would bring too much attention to you.”</p><p>“Are there any other things we need to know?” The Captain asked, his brow furrowed as he eyed both of them warily. </p><p>“Well, I do have someone on board I would like the both of you to meet. But you, especially, Sansa.” Tyrion said, and she saw the familiar sparkle in his eye. She wasn’t sure whether to be on edge, unsure of who he could possibly have for her to meet.</p><p>The only ties she held to Luna were in name alone, at this point; if he meant for her to draw on that power, he would be sorely disappointed, no matter how much that truth hurt her.</p><p>Tyrion turned his head, calling forth a worker behind him. He was tall and slender, clad in the Tycho base uniform- a navy jumpsuit, not dissimilar to the dirty <em> Canterbury </em>ones her crew wore now.</p><p>Sansa stopped- <em> her </em>crew? </p><p>Before she could ponder on it more, Tyrion spoke.</p><p>“Please, take the Captain Snow and his crew, as well as Sansa and her charge, to their rooms.” Tyrion asked the man behind him. He turned back to the wary eyes of the <em> Canterbury </em>crew. “I have procured rooms for each of you, on the top level of the Station. They will be yours for as long as you need it. We can talk later tonight, at dinner.”</p><p> </p><p>--------------</p><p> </p><p>Stepping into a shower made Sansa almost weep with joy.</p><p>She hadn’t felt the hot, heat of water on her skin since the last time she was in a port in Ceres. Since then, it had been short, cold showers, and in the past week, it had been none at all. She reeked, and she wasn’t sure how Sandor had managed to get so close to her without being disgusted.</p><p>She frowned at herself. Why should it matter specifically what the mechanic thought?</p><p>Once she finished her long shower, she began to brush out her hair. It had gotten long, and desperately needed a trim. Now, it was skimming her waist. </p><p>She found that Tyrion had sent a dress up to her room. As she unpacked the simple, gray box, she gasped.</p><p>Once again, she found herself biting back tears.</p><p>It was a thin, gauzy grey dress. As she lifted it up, she could see the swathes of material, could see how they crossed over her breasts to revel small slits at her hips, along with a generous neckline. It was a dress in the Lunar style, the beautiful, simplistic style that the Lunar people had loved. </p><p>Arya had hated their dresses, settling for the men’s style instead; she had said it looked whorish, looked too girly and feminine. Girly and feminine, Sansa could agree with, but she loved the style of her people. The Lunar population had always worn the color of their lands, the slate grey, and instead found their fashion through the daring cuts of their clothing.</p><p>When she held it to her face, she could almost feel like she was back in Winterfell, about to attend a feast with the politicians father had always hosted.</p><p>And when she put it on, looking into the mirror, she felt like Sansa Stark. Her face was still older, the cut on her forehead very apparent against her pale skin, but she still felt every bit a princess.</p><p> </p><p>--------------</p><p> </p><p>Theon’s room was next to hers, courtesy of Tyrion’s meticulous planning. It put her at ease, knowing her guard was directly beside her, ready at any startle. </p><p>But she found that Sandor’s room was on the other side of hers, and that made her feel even more relieved, for some reason.</p><p>When he exited his room in a smart, sharply cut grey suit, she couldn’t help her eyes from rolling over him. And, at the slight startle that came from his mouth, it seemed that she wasn’t the only one admiring.</p><p>“San-” Sandor began, about to say her name, before it got caught in his throat. “You look stunning.”</p><p>“Thank you,” She said, genuinely smiling at him. “As do you.”</p><p>He gave a grunt at that, shaking off his previous startelement to instead put his familiar, gruff persona. “I don’t like it.”</p><p>“It looks handsome.” She said, and Sandor opened his mouth, likely to disagree- but Theon appeared from next door, in a similar, slate-grey suit.</p><p>“Sansa!” He breathed, smiling at her appearance. “This-”</p><p>“I know.” She said, the giddy breathlessness in her voice. “I haven’t worn a Lunar gown in years.”</p><p>“It’s beautiful.” Theon responded, and his look of adoration made her smile softly.</p><p>“I suppose it’s time for this dinner.” Captain Snow grumbled as he walked past, pulling at the fitted neck of his grey suit. Sansa held a giggle behind her hand, feeling unusually light, for the first time in months. </p><p>“They tried to put me in a fuckin’ dress.” Ygritte ground out, following behind in a more feminine version of the Captain’s own suit. Her red hair was tamed for once, in a thick braid down her back. Sansa suddenly felt self conscious of her own appearance, her light gown and the crown of braids she had at her temple.</p><p>But she held her chin high. If the tiny direwolf, embroidered at the point where the fabric of her gown overlapped, was anything to show, Tyrion expected her to be who she was meant to be.</p><p> </p><p>------------</p><p> </p><p>The dinner was surprisingly small and intimate, and as Sansa entered the room, Tyrion stood.</p><p>But it was not just him at the table- at his left side was a woman she’d never seen before; her colorings were extremely unique, and Sansa could not place them. </p><p>She noticed the guards in the corner, not in the usual navy Tycho Station uniform- they were instead outfitted in a uniform of dark red. It reminded Sansa of the blood she’d seen, dripping from Ygritte’s hands.</p><p>“Well, you all look simply smashing after a good shower.” Tyrion said mirthfully. The woman next to him had stood as well, but she was staring straight at Sansa.</p><p>She had white, white hair that caught the lights of the ornate dining room. It trailed down her back, likely as long as Sansa’s; her skin was just as pale, and her eyes were what shocked her the most- they were a light violet, a very unusual mix. Her dress made Sansa feel more secure. It was red and silky, the neck much more daring than Sansa’s own, which was a feat in itself. </p><p>“As I mentioned, I have another visitor aboard my ship that I would like you all to meet.” Tyrion said, gesturing to the woman beside him. She looked made of stone, or marble, perhaps, and Sansa stood tall against her unwithering gaze. “But especially you, Sansa.”</p><p>To her surprise, the woman smiled then, a fiery passion in her gaze that Sansa hadn’t expected.</p><p>She came to Sansa, her silks billowing at her ankles. And with a broad, regal smile on her beautiful features, she extended a hand.</p><p>“I am Daenerys Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Martian throne. And I would like to help you regain your own throne.” </p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, we have Daenerys entering the equation! I want to say that while I’ve always wanted them to work together as two badass females, i 100% support the idea that in the TV (and probably book) GoT universe, they wouldn’t get along. I know there was a ton of shit about how Sansa and/or Dany were bitches because they didn’t back each other up but I think that’s ridiculous. They’re two powerful women with completely different goals, of course they won’t magically be best friends.</p><p>I say that to say, I’m contemplating adding a Dany tag to my fic but I’m worried about doing that. On my first fic ever here, I tagged her, and my first comment was literally someone saying Sansa is a bitch, Daenerys is better, Sansa deserved to get raped in the show.</p><p>After that was my FIRST comment on a SanSan fic, i took that fic down and it took months for me to get back into writing. I won’t deal with toxic shit- I agree with the characters not liking each other in the show and that doesn’t make them bitches, that makes them two strong women who want to see their vision succeed. If men did it, they wouldn’t be called bitches, and that’s the tea.</p><p>But in this story, I’m writing them as allies because I want to explore that more. I may or may not tag Dany, but I will not deal with hate about how either deserves to be raped, especially as a woman myself.</p><p>Whew, rant over! Thanks for reading! Next Chapter: finally a Sandor POV!</p>
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